


A Cursed Legacy

by hawksfromhandsaws



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Because well it's in the middle of the globe, Explicit Language, F/M, Female Bilbo, Female Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Gandalf is one of the Pirate Lords, Isabella Baggins is a proper lady and a thief, Mordor is something like the East India Trading Company, Oral Sex, Pirate AU, Pirates, Rule 63, Sexual Content, Smaug is a greedy commodore, The Caribbean is Middle Earth, The dwarves are pirates, Thorin is out to reclaim Erebor and his store of pirate gold, Vaginal Sex, only it happens to be cursed, or so they say, the elves are rum runners, this might get a bit dark, with plenty of snark, …we'll see where this goes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-18 08:58:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 100,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2342657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawksfromhandsaws/pseuds/hawksfromhandsaws
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Long ago, the most successful pirate family established their power seat on the Lonely Island on the sleeping volcano of Erebor. The Lonely Island, and its trade city of Dale, was the center of all maritime and commerce trade in the north. King Thror had the largest treasury of gold and jewels in the Caribbean, and was both a savage pirate and savvy businessman. However, his family's wealth caught the attention of a man in the Mordor Trading Company, Commodore Smaug.<br/>So Thorin, the dispossessed heir to the pirate kingdom, sets out with his loyal crew to retake Erebor. Only they find themselves in need of an experienced burglar. A burglar who has fooled polite society into believing she is the well behaved heiress. Lady Isabella Baggins has retired from the life of crime, and it will take an act of God, or more accurately, an act of her meddlesome Pirate Lord of a godfather to get her on this quest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this tumblr post http://boromirs.tumblr.com/post/73162191308/what-shall-we-die-for-a-pirates-of-the-caribbean
> 
> And bear with me in updates. It's the middle of the semester, but I'll do my best!

"Absolutely not." Lady Isabella Baggins didn't look up from the novel that hid half of her face, nor did she stop the gentle swing of her hammock. In fact, her manners were rather atrocious, even though her guest was an old family friend who had known her since she had been entertained by her own snot bubbles.

"What does that mean? That you refuse to see me, or that your book has come to a conflicted plot point which you disagree with, or that we are picking up the threads of an old conversation which I am sorry to say I do not recall?" The voice was raspy with a life time's enjoyment of the tobacco pipe and was currently full of amusement.

Amusement on her account, Isabella was positive.

"All of those at once and one more beside. Absolutely not, under no circumstances, will I be participating in whatever hare-brained scheme you have come up with now to tempt me back into working. As you can see, I'm enjoying my well earned life of leisure." She flipped the page, and continued to read. The gentle sea breeze off the sunlit blue waters of the Caribbean ruffled her perfectly curled hair, sending honey tendrils across the delicate features of her face.

"Hare-brained scheme? To think I would live to be insulted by Belladonna Took's daughter. And on such a fine morning. Are you going to turn an old friend away or do I at least have an invitation for tea?"

She finally glanced up. The man invading her quiet afternoon was tall enough that the top of his ridiculously large hat blocked a portion of the sun. There was something about him, maybe his long, thick grey beard or twinkling blue eyes, that immediately set one at ease. His was a strength not apparent at first glance, but one that could weather the ravages of life and come out with serenity and fortitude.

"Just tea?" she asked dubiously.

"Aye. Tea."

Well, that wasn't terribly reassuring, but with Gandalf, that was the best she was ever likely to receive. "Have a seat. I'll ring for some refreshments."

When she returned with a servant and tray full of tea and scones, Gandalf had taken over her hammock, grey robes hoisted up to reveal mud stained trousers of the same color and boots that had seen better days. Isabella hid a smile. She really was fond of the batty old man, even if he was more meddlesome and trouble than he was worth.

Gandalf the Grey, one of the original pirate lords to plague the Caribbean waters, and her erstwhile godfather. Though he no longer actively participated in less than legal endeavors, he kept himself busy meddling in the tobacco trade and her life. It had been over a year since they had last shared a meal, and Isabella had missed him.

"You are lucky I always keep your favorite scones on hand. I would hate for you to go to the trouble of sending forewarning of your visits," she commented dryly, sweeping her green skirts to the side as she sat at the delicate, wrought-iron table on the veranda.

"It does you good to stay on your toes, Bella. You have become too comfortable here of late."

"Isabella, if you please." The tea was a delicate blend that had just arrived from India. Scrumptious.

Gandalf ignored her as he piled a plate high with the cinnamon sugar scones and took the cup of tea she offered. "I have come to this strange island to find someone who wants to join in on an adventure. Then I thought to myself, who better than dearest Bella."

"I can hardly imagine that you would be able to find an adventurer in these parts. Nasty, uncomfortable things," she said coolly.

How many times was she going to fall for his 'just tea' trick? Gandalf was rarely so uncomplicated to have only one reason for his visits.

Recognizing a futile battle, she didn't press the use of her nickname. Only her former business contacts: her handler, fence, and enemies had called her that. And, it would seem, Gandalf, though she was rather certain that was only because he was still so proud of himself for figuring the ruse out.

After all, how many people would dream of connecting the respectable, eligible heiress Lady Isabella Baggins with the infamous, scourge of a thief who had terrorized Middle Earth a few years back?

The very idea that someone who danced the most delicious waltz could ever possibly steal so much as a cuff link was laughable.

It was that ridiculousness that kept Isabella safe even after she got out of the game and gave up most of her blackmail. Middle Earth, as part of the Caribbean islands were called, had breathed a sigh of relief when Bella had retired.

Bushy eyebrows rose as he considered her. "Very well, that settles it."

Relief had barely begun to ease her rolling stomach when he continued and she lost her appetite completely.

"It will be most beneficial for you. And most amusing for me." He stood, swiped one more scone from the table and left without another word.

It took several moments for the horror to fully sink in. When it did, Isabella leapt to her feet, nearly over turning the table, and darted after him. Her skirts, light though the fabric was in concession to the tropical heat, tangled around her legs as she raced down the stairs. Servants stared as she flashed past, only to pull up short at her front door. Gandalf's carriage was already halfway down the drive.

"Hang it!" she hissed. That old man had better be joking. Her adventuring days were over. Her tools hung up, her money invested. Isabella had learned long ago that she cared more for the reasons- home, family, comfort- of her actions than she enjoyed the actions themselves.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabella reaps the consequences of the visit and misses her home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and let me know what you think!

Well done, Bella girl. Really well done.  
Swallowing a groan and the remains of her breakfast, Isabella redoubled her grip on the railing. How had declining Gandalf's proposal of an adventure turned into her standing at the marina in the company of thirteen men she barely knew?

"Are you ready, my lady?" One of Gandalf's companions, there were so many of them she could barely keep track, approached her.

Long, dark hair, almost as long as her own, framed a youthful face full of exuberance and shadows she couldn't explain. As she met his gaze, she tried to remember his name. It was an odd one she had never heard before, but it rhymed with his brother's. Something that started with a K...Kili, that was it.

"We're heading back inland?" Please say yes. Seasickness had hit and she was still on the dock. If she had to get on the ship that was a hundred meters to her right, Isabella didn't want to consider the consequences.

She had known that being involved with pirates would mean sea travel, but she had hoped that it wouldn't come so quickly. Boats were the necessary evil of living in Middle Earth, and while she had resigned herself to this fact, Isabella did everything she could to keep both feet planted firmly on dry land whenever possible.

What Thorin was going to say when he found out his burglar suffered from seasickness, she wasn't sure she wanted to know.  
Thorin, heir to the greatest pirate kingdom in all of Middle Earth, was the current bane of her existence. After Gandalf had somehow convinced her to join in this utter ridiculousness, Isabella had been introduced to the insufferable man. He hadn't been thrilled about a woman joining. Apparently she was bad luck.

As dangerous as the tales claimed, he was a thunderstorm about to break over deep waters. Long, thick hair the exact shade of a moonless night, was tamed in a tail at the back of his strong neck, revealing rugged features and a chin that could break bridges. He was also standing ten meters to her left, doing his best to ignore her.

Not big on manners, that one.

"No, my lady. We are headed for Uncle's ship." Kili pointed at the nightmare she had been trying so hard to avoid.

"Please, just Bella. If I'm coming on this trip, I don't want my title attached to this."

"Bella." He grinned. No doubt he was the hit of many a whorehouse with that smile.

Though she had lived here all her life, Isabella didn't think she would ever grow tired of the island's beauty: thick, green forests, rugged mountains, stunning, crystal blue waters, the smell of the natives' cooking wafting on the breeze, the brush of sea salt across one's face on the gentle wind. And here she was about to leave it.

Sure she had left Jamaica before for her...clandestine nights, but returning to her home province of the Shire warmed her heart like nothing else.

What had she gotten herself into?

Reluctantly, Isabella pointed her feet towards the ship's ramp. This was not going to be pleasant. This morning she had left in such a hurry that she had completely forgotten to pack her extra handkerchiefs and yarrow root to ease the nausea.

Just as they all made to board, Gandalf trotted into the marina. Handing his horse off to a dockhand, he threw a rucksack her way. "The rest of your essentials, my dear. Let us be off, then!"

"Welcome aboard _Aulë's Craft_ , Mistress Baggins." Thorin bowed as she hurried up the ramp.

The slight rolling motion of the deck was multiplied in her stomach, stealing her tongue. She managed to nod graciously before bolting for the opposite side.

"That's the Baggins' in her. Poor Bungo never found his sea legs," Gandalf said conversationally over the sound of her gagging. "Bella will be alright after a while to adjust."

"Is this a joke?" Thorin rumbled. "We haven't even left port!"

"I'm afraid not. Rest easy, Thorin. Bella is the best in the business, especially once she finds her heart."

"I can find it for you. It's in the ocean with the rest of her innards," Bofur sniggered.

The hand gestured Bella flashed his way was less than appropriate for a woman, burglar or not, but she couldn't bring herself to care as the anchor was reeled in and the ropes disconnected from the dock.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Eons later, the torment ended. She came to just as darkness fell. Her back was against the bow as she lay on her side, curled into a ball. Nothing more was in her stomach, not that that had stopped her from dry-heaving for the past few hours. Every muscle burned and a strange taste coated her tongue.

Ugh. And Gandalf wondered why she never went back to England for a visit. Well, this agony and the fact the only family she had there were the Sacksville-Baggins. She had burglarized with a purpose. Now she had her own wealth to live on so she wouldn't be beholden those nasty relatives of Father's.

In search of drinkable water, she stumbled down below decks. Maybe if she sipped carefully, she could keep it down.

All of the men, except for Bifur who was on watch, were sitting a long table and glanced up at her entrance. Only Gandalf seemed concerned at her lack of pallor and inability to stand up straight.

"Bella, please have a seat. We were just about to discuss our endeavor. Should be quite the adventure."

"Well, when you associate with pirates, what else could it be?" Bella grumbled, the sickness had thrown what little equanimity there was in her temper straight overboard.

Fili let out a great snort. "A pirate? Uncle, you should be offended. He looks nothing like a pirate."

Emotion flowed over Thorin's face at the response, too quick for Isabella to identify. Someone, it seemed, had some explaining to do to his family.

"Gandalf..." she hissed. Getting her involved in something dangerous was one thing. Bringing in family drama was a completely other, less desirable thing. Isabella hated drama in all its forms.

"Why don't we start this tale from the beginning? I'll need help from both of you. I only know how parts of it began," he said, waving Bella to the only open spot at the long table. Fili obligingly scooted over so she could sit between him and Thorin.

"Long ago, the most successful pirate family, descended from no less a man than Durin the Deathless himself, established their power seat on the Lonely Island on the sleeping volcano of Erebor. Far to the north of here, across mountain ranges and seas of treacherous waters, the Lonely Island, and it's trade city of Dale, was the center of all maritime and commerce trade in the north. King Thror had the largest treasury of gold and jewels in the Caribbean, and was both a savage pirate and savvy businessman. However, his family's wealth caught the attention of a man in the Mordor Trading Company. Commodore Smaug."

Dwalin snarled a curse and spat to the side.

"Wait a minute. Great-grandfather wasn't a pirate. Or a king. He was a shipwright, like Grandfather and Uncle Thorin," Kili said, his dark brow furrowed.

Gandalf favored the lad with a stern look and returned to his lecture. "Commodore Smaug was the worst that Mordor's northern fleet had to offer. Greedy, lazy if competent, and brutal. He saw the vast riches of Erebor as his way to retire in comfort with the added enjoyment of destroying his bitterest enemies among the pirate kin."

"So many died that day. Too many. Innocents we had sworn to protect when they came to work in Dale," Thorin took up the tale. Like the rest of him, his voice was dark and deep, whiskey before a fire on a cold night. "Smaug hit Dale first to draw us out from the stronghold of Erebor. Cannon balls and Greek fire decimated the town within minutes. The rum runners were the only ones in port besides Smaug's ships. Those cowards from the Greenwood pulled out before any of those fleeing could reach their ships and left us to our fate.

"We lost more than Erebor that day. King Thror could never reconcile the loss of our home. He tried to retake our long abandoned land, the mining town on the coast of Mexico. Moria was overrun. The few warriors remaining amongst us perished in that battle, including the king and my brother, Frerin."

Isabella's hand twitched towards his on the tabletop before she controlled herself. As much as she disliked pirates for their rather loose attitudes towards women and morality, she knew all too well the sharp cut of grief having lost her parents five summers ago in a carriage accident. That was a pain she would wish upon no one.

The man had a talent for declaiming. Everyone was spellbound, the youngest three: Fili, Kili and Ori, listening with their mouths down around their ankles. Isabella could picture people running for the docks in panic, could smell the charring wood and burning flesh. All knew the tale of the cursed gold of Erebor. They say it drove King Thror mad and ensnared Smaug so that he would suffer no one to even look upon it. Bodies lined the paths to Erebor. Skeletons whose only tombstone was the cursed gold at the root of their demise.

Cursed or not, and Isabella had her doubts, there was no denying that an ugly fate fell upon those who attempted to claim so much wealth for their own. Coming from someone who spent a few years of her life relieving such people from part of their hoards, she knew the lure of greed, the temptation of gold.

"When we were rebuffed from Moria, what remained of our kin sailed east with me. We took work where we could and kept our heads down. Without the power we used to have, all of us were vulnerable to the enemies we had cultivated over the years, both real and imagined. Smaug was said to have put a hit out on my head, and that of my sister, Dis. We didn't want that to reach her children. So we told you I was merely a shipwright. That Thror had died in a shipyard accident." He spoke directly to his nephews now.

Balin bowed his head in remembrance, his melancholy leaking into the rest of them. Even Bofur, who had not once stopped flapping his lips since he arrived despite shoveling food into his mouth, went silent.

"Smaug has not been seen for years now. They say he blockaded the island out of paranoia. No ships in and no ships out. He is vulnerable in his fear. The time has come to retake what once was yours," Gandalf said.

"If it's blockaded, how will we get through?" Bofur asked.

A smile, so full of mischief and energy, overcame Gandalf's face. Isabella, well accustomed to the trouble that smile could bring, inched backwards in her seat in case a speedy exit was required.

"Excellent question, my dear Bofur." From the folds of his signature grey robes, Gandalf produced a piece of folded, aged parchment, and a key. "From your grandfather to your father, this has come to me and now it is time it returns to you."

Thorin extended a hand for the key while everyone scooted closer to look at the map. Isabella considered the key. It was blocky and made from wrought-iron. Most likely it went to a gate or something similar. Exposed to the elements, she could see rust clinging to the handle. The ridges on the key suggested a lock that would be very hard to pick. Probably ten pins. Expensive.

Gandalf was considering her when she glanced away. "Well?"

"It's a key," she told him sourly. Damn her professional curiosity; it always got her into the worst messes.

He laughed. "Aptly put. It is a key and here on this map, you can see the mark for a secret door."

"A back way into Erebor," Fili summarized, his golden eyebrows climbing farther and farther up his forehead as the conversation progressed. "But we'd still have to sneak into the actual stronghold."

"Precisely. Which is why you need a burglar."

The table went silent as the men looked from one to the other. They all shook their heads. Thorin had been the one to call them here, not Gandalf. They were pirates, not sneaky, subtle creatures. Then, slowly, they all turned towards Bella.

"Ah! I see. The lady has a burglar on staff," Oin said in the tone of one who suddenly understands all.

"Don't be daft. Bella is the burglar."

If she had been in a lighter frame of mind, Isabella would have enjoyed their astonishment. It was reassuring to know her disguise worked so well.

"Bella? The Bella?" Dwalin snorted. "Wouldn't that be a miracle if we could secure him for the job."

Thorin shook his head. "Isabella. Bella. Clever."

"Is this where she takes over the story?" Bombur prodded when no one spoke.

"If I must." Bella rubbed at her temples. "I became a burglar, stole as I took the jobs I wanted, and retired."

"Beautiful story. Really moving, that." Thorin snorted.

"Thanks, I was worried that it might be a bit too long."

"She looks more like a grocer than a burglar," Gloin said.

Why that bothered Isabella so much, she didn't know. It was true in part: she spent several days a week in the market haggling over supplies for her kitchens. Sure, some days she missed the heart pounding excitement of finding ways around obstacles no one else could. The tingling fear that she might get caught. The absolute elation when she made it home with no one the wiser.  
Balin, however, was examining her as if she were a new species. "Well, now. What an interesting quirk of Fate. They say that Bella robbed the viceroy of Cuba, himself."

"It was his son," she murmured. "Bolg was in possession that I had promised to the daughter of the Spanish ambassador."

"Son of Azog?" Thorin spat the name.

"That's the one. Both he and his son are the same kind of scum."

Dwalin nodded. "In the pockets of Mordor, too."

"Hmm," she agreed, slowly sipping the canteen Gandalf had handed her. Now didn't seem like the best time to tell them that she and Bolg had been betrothed. The whole breaking into the viceroy's mansion of Dol Guldur had been a work of self preservation, not a paying job. She had nabbed the wedding ring he had commissioned and given it to Catrina. When it had appeared on her finger instead of Isabella's, there had been a huge scandal, ending in Catrina and Bolg married, thus sparing Isabella the same fate.  
It wasn't as horrible as it sounded. Catrina had wanted Bolg- or more accurately, wanted his connections. The two women had come to an agreement on the matter, though Bella had always thought Catrina got the worse end of the deal.

So she could empathize with Thorin and his crew. Truly, she did. Mordor Trading Company and all its ilk were petty, greedy, anal individuals. The head of the Company, Sauron, had made it his personal mission to rid Middle Earth of any and all lawless folk, especially pirates. Their tariffs were ungodly high and they used terror as means of inspiring obedience, instead of fair trade. No one crossed them who wished to continue breathing.

So why on earth was she throwing her lot in with pirates?


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A strange ship is sighted just in time for Isabella to prove herself to the pirates.

"Again."

Kili jumped up from the deck, reclaimed his blade, and went after his uncle with a roar. They had been on the ocean for over a week, and the days had fallen into a simple routine. When not on duty or scrambling about the rigging, the men practiced their swordplay. Then came dinner, more combat lessons, and supper. The meals were taken on deck as long as the weather was pleasant.

Isabella had gotten over her sea sickness quickly and was currently repairing a rather ragged pair of Bofur's trousers. He of all the pirates was the only one who seemed to enjoy her presence. They had made a deal. She would repair his clothes and teach him how to pick locks since he was useless at both, and he would teach her the rudiments of defense with a sword and throwing daggers.

Thorin easily dodged Kili's assault and brought his own sword down in a glittering arc to tap the boy's back. "Dead."

A soft curse came from next to her. Looking up from her position against the bow, Isabella grinned at her godfather. "I think that makes it three to me, zero to you."

"Well, the boy does show promise at least." He sighed. "Good thing we aren't betting with money. You would have cleaned me out long ago."

"A lady of privilege would never be so crass as to engage in gambling," she said haughtily. Catching the weighty bag Fili tossed her way with a smile, she bounced it once on her palm and tucked it into the folds of her skirt.

"Unlucky for the lad that you are no such thing, then." Gandalf winked.

Why someone would bet against Thorin, Isabella had no idea. It was evident that he had spent his life as a shipwright. Arms corded with muscle that flowed onto his chest, he was as strong as an ox, yet surprisingly light on his feet. Beneath the thin, sweat soaked shirt he wore, she could see thin scars that proclaimed his life was not an easy one. With the swinging of his dark hair and fierce expression, he was a god from one of the pagan stories come to life.

Wrenching her attention away, Isabella watched the rest of the crew. Over the past week she had come to learn all of their names and their distinctive personalities.

There was Bifur, constantly in the crow's nest where he muttered to himself in Spanish. Gandalf had told her quietly that a few years back, Bifur had run afoul of the Spanish slavers. He had been their prisoner for some months before his family had managed to free him. The nasty scar which bisected his face was a memento of his time in captivity, as was his inability to speak anything other than the language of his captors.

In complete contrast to their cousin, was Bofur, the constantly cheery man with a song always on his lips, and Bombur who was their resident cook. From his rather rotund appearance, Isabella had begun to wonder if he ate all of the good food before serving the rest of them hard biscuits and dried meat.

Balin and Dwalin were the silent, wise types who could usually be found in counsel with Thorin. Balin reminded her of her late grandfather Baggins, a kindly sort of fellow, but he had a hard gleam in his eye to match Dwalin's that spoke of years of hardship and conflict.

The three brothers, Dori, Nori and Ori, were a close knit group who, while pleasant to Isabella, never said much. Nori seemed to have a case of slick fingers, and Dori a tendency to hover over Ori. The poor lad could hardly take two steps without hearing some sort of criticism from one or the other of his brothers, if not conflicting advice from both. It had made the boy rather flighty and convinced of his own importance.

Gloin and Oin, if not for their presence on the ship, she would never have guessed were lawless folk. True, Gloin had the pirate's love of gold, but both seemed too erudite and settled to worship the mistress of the sea.

The same could not be said for Fili and Kili. Only a few years younger than herself, they had yet to realize their sense of invulnerability was but an illusion. Ever since learning of their true heritage, both young men had taken to swaggering about the deck and teasing her for throwing her lot in with pirates. However, if not for his exasperated fondness at their antics, she would have believed Thorin utterly cold.

Isabella turned to Gandalf. If only Thorin's personality was half as handsome as his body. "Where are we headed?"

"To Erebor, my dear girl."

"Eventually, yes. Don't think I haven't noticed how you keep toggling the wheel after Thorin sets the course." She began stitching again. It was obvious Bofur had attempted to fix the holes before, but his sewing had been truly awful. "Does this man even know what a needle and thread are for?"

"Unlikely," a deep voice said, jerking her head back up. "Bofur is many things, but domestic is not one of them."

Domestic. She looked domestic? He had obviously taken one too many hits to his head. Did he see children clinging to her skirts? Isabella arched an eyebrow at Thorin. "Pity then that he didn't give these to you. I bet you have the skills to fix them."

Fili hid a snigger behind a cough. Thorin ignored her with regal ease. Instead he turned to Gandalf. "Where are we headed? I did not think I set a course for this far south."

"We have a map we cannot read, Thorin. There are only a few in Middle Earth who can. It is time to set aside old ha-" Gandalf said in that firm, confident way of his. It was a tone not used to disobedience. Growing up, Isabella had found herself twenty times more likely to be contrary when he used that voice, just to prove that she could. Gandalf, however, was cleverer than her nine year old self and simply asked for the opposite of what he wished.

"Enough. There will be another way," Thorin interjected roughly. "I would not trust your 'experts' with anything so important."

Icy flame awoke in Gandalf's gaze. Edging away, Isabella waited for the dam to burst. He might be a gentle godfather, but he was also a ruthless member of the Five. They ruled the pirates, a task not unlike herding cats whose claws were razor sharp, and one did not rise through their ranks by allowing insolence.

" _Entrante_!" Bifur hollered from the crow's nest.

The battle was set aside for a moment as they all raced for the side of the ship. Isabella poked her head past Dwalin, nearly falling into the ocean as she did so. Around the head of the grizzled warrior, she could see the prow of a worn ship. From this distance, it was hard to see many details, but there didn't appear to be many people on board.

"That is a huge boat," she commented idly. It dwarfed _Aulë's Craft_ the way a giant towers over a gnat.

"SHIP!" Came fourteen corrections.

Deeply ingrained etiquette kept Isabella from rolling her eyes, but it was a near thing. "Whose _ship_ is it?"

"Balin?" Thorin called over his shoulder.

The oldest member of the company, apart from Gandalf, peered through a spy glass, his long white beard swaying gently in the breeze. "I see no discerning marks. They do not appear to have seen us. No movement on the deck."

Thorin nodded slowly as they all moved back to the main part of the ship. "This water is controlled by the Five. We should be safe, but I've never seen a vessel that large. We need more information."

All eyes turned to Isabella.

Her gold kissed jade gaze stared back."Oh, don't be ridiculous. They're at least three hundred meters away. What on earth do you expect me to do? I'm a burglar, not a magician."

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That would be the last time she opened her mouth. Not that silence had seemed to serve her any better.

"Devil take these leprous pirates!" she muttered none too quietly as Nori buckled her into a leather harness. The bands held tight to her abdomen, wrapped around her chest and secured in the back to a long line of rope. Stripped down to her petticoats so as to lessen the amount of wet fabric to drag her down, Isabella felt highly exposed.

None of the pirates were gentlemanly enough to look away . It had been a long time for some of them since they had seen such a fetching woman in so little clothing. With her wild curls the color of honeyed wheat, sardonic green gaze and elegant features, Isabella was a bewitching sight, a fact aided by her slim curves and full mouth. Still, they had learned over the past week that her tongue was sharp enough to flay many a man alive, and so they respected her more than they would have any other woman aboard the ship, burglar or no.

"You can swim, can't you lassie?" Balin asked. He, at least seemed genuinely concerned for her welfare.

"We're about to find out," she said grimly.

"O' course she can't swim," Gloin interjected. "She's a hobbit. This whole thing is nonsense."

Hobbits, as the residents of the Shire were called, were well known for their love of home and hearth, of a full meal and an even fuller bottle of whiskey, and their distinct hatred of water in all its forms, excepting, of course, a steaming hot bath at the end of a long day. Among the other denizens of Middle Earth, there were many wild and ridiculous stories about how the Shire had come to exist on an island of all places.

The nickname came from an amalgamation of words: 'hob' referring to the side of the fireplaces that the people loved so much when possessing a good book and a certain disregard for work, and 'bit' for their tendency to talk more than a bit about whatever interested them most- usually tobacco, food, or their own history. Isabella had always found the tales of her neighbors and family fascinating. It was a way to remember one's history and add texture to life. And she would never say no to a comfy chair and a new novel.

Especially if it meant she didn't have to get wet as it now seemed she must.

Isabella knew how to swim- her father had thought it prudent- but she avoided it when she could. "Pray remind me again why I'm the one doing this?"

"Because ye be the stealthiest and lightest amongst us," Dwalin rumbled. Hearing him talk was akin to listening to the trees groan in a hurricane.

"And apparently the most expendable." Rolling her shoulders, Isabella swallowed her instinctive panic. If the people on the other boat- _ship_ \- were hostile and caught sight of her, this little quest would be over before she even saw Cuba, let alone Erebor.

"Nah, lass. Just the most capable." Balin patted her on the shoulder in a fatherly way.

Isabella gave him a small smile. If she came back from this, she would share her hidden stash of sweets from home with him.

Thorin, on the other hand, would be lucky if she didn't poison his food. Just before leaving, she had read this very interesting manuscript about the native fauna of Middle Earth, and there had been an entry about toxic plants...

"Alright. Over ye go." Dwalin picked her up easily and deposited her over the side.

Fili and Kili strained against the rope that kept her from plummeting into the sea. "Glory, Bella. You should lay off the scones." One of them called.

When she reached the warm water and got her bearings, Isabella gave a sharp tug on the rope. The fact that it came at such a time as to catch the two boys unawares and send them splashing down next to her was completely coincidental.

Two outraged, spluttering faces stared at her. With the innocent expression she had been using for years when the subject of theinfamous Bella came up at dinner parties, she said, "you should work on your grace, my dears."

"Stop terrorizing my nephews and get on with it, Mistress Baggins," Thorin called.

One of these days, she was going to push him into the ocean. Then again, with as much hot air as his ego created, he might just float away.

Striking out for the opposite vessel as the current and winds took them nearer and nearer, Isabella struggled to fall into a rhythm. It had been a long time since she had been swimming, and while she was in no danger of drowning, her strokes were far from elegant.

The water was pleasantly warm and salty in her mouth when a swell took her under. With the unfathomable depths beneath her, Isabella had a distinct feeling of insignificance. The ocean would not weep if she were to sink into its embrace. Nor would the winds grieve if they failed in their quest. Yet there was something comforting in the knowledge that Nature did not falter for Isabella's troubles. Surely she could find a solution to anything as long as she realized that all shadows pass in time and the current carries away all worries.

The broad stern of strange boat- _ship_ , she really had to watch that- appeared before her fingertips. Taking as deep a breath as her lungs would permit, Isabella submerged, one hand on the wood to keep herself oriented. Deeper and deeper she swam, the petticoats tangling about her legs, dragging her down.

Just when she thought her lungs were about to burst, her hand met only water. She had found the bottom of the keel. Hope surging, Isabella kicked her legs. The ascent on the other side seemed an eternity. As her head broke the surface, Isabella gasped and choked, trying to be quiet as she leaned against the scratchy side of the ship.

Never again was she going to let those damned pirates talk her into anything. The first mission they had set for her and she had nearly drowned. At least they wouldn't be able to sneer at the swimming ability of hobbits any longer.

With the knife Bofur had kindly lent her, Isabella drove the blade into the side of the ship, unhooked the rope from her harness and tied it about the handle as securely as she could. The wet rope fought her, flailing about, but she thought it would hold if the pirates followed as they had sworn they would.

It would be a sad day when she trusted the word of a pirate.

Bobbing gently against the wood, Isabella considered the tall side of the ship looming above her. How on earth was she to scale that with no tools and wet skirts?

Not for nothing, though, was she the most successful burglar in Middle Earth. She had been in many a difficult situation before and never let it ruffle her. The devil could take her if she would let it do so now.

With a sharp yank, Isabella pulled the knife from the weathered wood and gouged out a sharp spike. To this she attached the rope so that it lay flat against the side of the vessel, and placed her foot in the whole it had created. Using the knife as both a support and a tool, she carved out holes for footholds and climbed her way up.

By the time she reached the deck, the muscles in Isabella's arms were screaming bloody murder. Breath came in sharp gasps as she peered over the railing.

Nothing.

Not even a seagull pecking at worms in the decaying beams.

Information, Thorin had said. She wondered what he would do if she returned and told them the ship was run by ghosts.

Deciding she didn't want to walk the plank, Isabella hauled herself over the railing and landed with a wet plop! on the deck.

If it had seemed huge from a distance, it was a vessel for giants up close. The deck alone could have fit three of _Aulë's Craft_ aboard with room to spare. The mast towered overhead like a ladder to the heavens as Isabella crept forward. She really hoped that she wouldn't have to go below decks to find out something useful. The odds of being caught rose drastically in tight quarters like narrow staircases.

The thought had no sooner crossed her mind, when the wind carried snippets of conversation to her. Two...no, three deep male voices on the other end of the ship. Heart leaping with a fierce combination of excitement, dread and tension, Isabella picked up her dripping skirts and edged towards the sounds.

"....just stew 'em, I'd say, Bert. These British types are too grisly for roasting to be any good."

"Nah, Tom. That's rubbish, that is. We should roast 'em," came a second voice.

Bert snorted. "You just like ripping off them arms, Tom."

"Well," Tom said defensively, "it's great fun. Ain't it, Will?"

"'Suppose," Will rumbled. "Oh, get on with it. I'm starving, I am."

Fear drowned out all other emotion in a violent wave. Isabella froze, one hand on the railing to the upper deck. Trolls. Dear Yavanna, why did it have to be Trolls?

The enforcers of Mordor Trading Company's more extreme policies, the Trolls were a band of brothers who had created a name for themselves by being aggressive, stupid, vicious bruisers. They took pleasure in roughing up the merchants who were behind on their payments of what amounted to blackmail money to Mordor. Worse, after being shipwrecked on a remote island in the Pacific for months, the Trolls had developed a taste for human flesh.

Now the cannibals took their salary from Mordor in the form of human captives.

"Keep your hair on. You can't rush genius. Oooh, wrap your gob around a taste of this, Will."

Lips smacked. "Yum. Tastes ripe for one of these lads to be tossed in."

A horrible, agonized scream came from a new throat. Standing on her tiptoes, Isabella peeked above the stairs. Five men, Royal Navy uniforms askew, sat fettered together, petrified as they stared at the gigantic stew pot warming up over a metal trough of flaming logs. Around the pot sat three men, each rippled with more muscle than she had ever seen on one person.

Isabella hesitated. There was no doubt in her mind that if she were seen, the Trolls would rip off her arms instead of those of the sailors. It wouldn't even be that much of an exertion for them. However, she couldn't just leave the men to such a fate.

Damnation. The smart thing to do would be to go back and get reinforcements from her own crew. Then they would stand a better chance against the Trolls.

Just as she made up her mind, Tom reached for a bound officer. "Just a nibble. I can't wait for that bloody broth to be done."

Bert reached over and smacked away his hands. "Only five minutes more."

Apparently reinforcements would have to wait. With a quick prayer for luck sent skyward, Isabella took a firmer grip on the knife and snuck up the stairs. Bert pointed out something in the pot and all three Trolls peered over it to look.

Darting forward, Isabella threw herself behind the officers. Even sitting, they were taller than her as she crouched on her knees.

"Don't react," she whispered to forestall the gasps of surprise. "There's another ship to the east. Swim to it and you'll find help."

The man who, if her memory served, wore the rank of a captain, gave a careful nod. "Thank you, miss."

Too busy sawing at the ropes binding them to answer, Isabella merely nodded. "Quickly now. Move when they aren't looking."

The first man knew his business. Keeping his movements round and slow, he paced himself to the railing before falling overboard.

"Between the five, we oughts to have a full belly tonight, lads," Will said happily.

The stress was too much for the youngest officer. With a squeal of pure terror, he shot to his feet and bolted for the railing the moment Isabella untied him.

"Damnation!" Isabella hissed. All three Trolls turned at the sound.

Pointing the ladle at her like a sword, Bert demanded. "Who are you?"

"Bella-" then realizing they might have heard of her before, she hastily added, "a hobbit."

"A bellahobbit?" Tom blinked. "What is that?"

Wow. So the stories hadn't over exaggerated their stupidity. "Oh, a harmless little thing."

"Hmmm." Will eyed her closely."Are there any more of these bellahobbits around?"

Nudging the men to get a move on, Isabella slowly backed towards the railing. "Nope. Nary a one."

"She's lying! Get her!" Bert exclaimed.

Six hands reached for Isabella as she made a mad dash to the safety of the sea. Her foot touched the railing, but strong arms caught her mid leap.

"Looks like it's bellahobbit on the menu tonight, boys!"

Well, that could have gone better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Trolls were always one of my favorite parts of the book.  
> Isabella isn't going to let Thorin forget the ramifications of this little adventure. Assuming she survives it, of course.  
> Let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bella has been gone a long time and Thorin starts to wonder how he ever got to be in such turbulent waters to begin with.

The burglar had been gone for a long time now. All the men were pretending to be busy on the deck so they could keep a lookout without appearing to care too much. Interesting how quickly the men had come to care about that slip of a woman, especially when most of them didn't give two wits about anyone who wasn't a pirate.

Standing at the helm, Thorin tried not to let the tension of the crew leak into him. This was the last time he let Gandalf talk him into anything. He had nothing against bringing in a burglar. It was a near brilliant idea considering what lay before them. But to bring in a lady? It was bad luck to have a woman aboard, especially one who walked about with such airs and sighed away the day wishing for her comfortable bed.

Though he would bet his ship that Isabella looked damned good in said bed. Curls in wild disarray. Bewitching gaze clouded with lust. Slim curves bare to the touch.

With a sharp shake of the head, Thorin wrenched his mind from that particular path of no return. Sure, the girl was attractive and sure he had been experiencing a dearth of feminine company, but that was no reason to let his body rule his mind. Isabella- Miss Baggins was probably a safer way to think of her- was here for one reason and one reason only.

"Where did Gandalf go?" Dwalin asked.

Thorin raised one shoulder in a shrug. "He's a Pirate Lord."

"Right. Not worth the spit to say the name," Dwalin grumbled, though it was without heat. Despite their fierce love of independence and hatred of authority, all pirates held the Five in the highest respect.

"So what about Bella?" Bofur came up onto the top deck. "She's been gone an awful long time."

"I hadn't noticed," Thorin replied calmly. If only that were the truth.

"The rope has stopped bobbing. She must have secured it. We should follow." The man pressed. Crinkles appeared between his eyes as he pondered the other ship. They still could see no motion on the vessel.

Whatever reply Thorin was about to give voice to was drowned by a high pitched scream of absolute panic. The shriek was definitely masculine, though that raised more questions than it answered. Was Bella attacking someone? Or were there people in danger aboard?

"ALL HANDS TO THE ROPE!" Thorin bellowed, the words falling readily from his lips before he had even considered them. "Leave the armor behind and bring your weapons."

The crew raced towards the railing and dove into the ocean. Following the rope, they snuck up on the ship and swam beneath the keel. As they scaled the enormous ship, more noises trickled down to them. No more screams came their way, but snippets of conversation.

"...nary a one." Well at least Bella was still alive. And she sounded pissed.

"Looks like it's bellahobbit on the menu tonight, boys!" Came the deepest voice Thorin had ever heard.

A soft feminine sigh. "I am going to kill those pirates."

That was something she could only accomplish in the next life. The woman was about as fierce as a bunny.

Sending rapid hand signals to his crew, Thorin hoisted himself over the railing and waited until the man spoke again to disguise the sounds of his feet hitting the deck.

"How shall we eat this one, Bert?" A different, but no less deep voice.

Eat? Mahal forbid he meant that literally. The only cannibals to sail these waters were the Trolls and even they wouldn't be so bold as to come down from the Ettenmoors into the waters of the Five.

"How have you not gotten scurvy?" Bella asked.

The two men ignored her to speak to a third. "Will? What sounds best?"

"Squished into jelly." He laughed heartily. "She won't make more than a mouthful. That's the problem with maidens. Scarcely enough meat to make it worth the bother."

"They sure are juicy though," Bert countered. "I think we should sear her in a nice hot pan. Yum."

Thorin crept up to the upper deck as quietly as he could. From his limited field of sight, he could see Bella trussed up like a holiday goose, sitting next to an enormous, bubbling pot. Despite the heat he could see coming off the fire in waves, Bella looked cool, if not wholly calm, her whole attention focused on the Trolls.

The three Trolls sat on their haunches about the pot and appeared to be completely oblivious to the rest of the world if said world didn't involve eating Bella in some way shape or form.

Some burglar she was to be caught by the three dimmest beings on the seven seas. Smaug would probably find her in about two heartbeats, and he wouldn't debate over how to kill her. Her pretty head would part ways with that slim neck before she could even say "whoops."

"I think a bushel of oranges would be just the thing for you lovely men. The best fruit in all of Middle Earth, yours for the taking."

She couldn't be serious. Not only was she trying to reason with men who had maybe one brain between the three of them, but she was trying to tempt cannibals with fruit.

He and Gandalf were going to have a reckoning when Thorin returned with Bella in tow. Sticking him with a pretentious woman was one thing. Forcing a stupid burglar into his company was another thing entirely. Waiting for his men to ease into position around the Trolls gave Thorin a moment to ponder how exactly he had come to be in this situation in the first place.

_Not long ago, he was busy eking out a living as a shipwright to help support his sister and two nephews, too exhausted at the end of each day to ponder much the shame and thirst for vengeance that filled him every time he thought about Erebor._

_Then word had come that his father had been seen near the village of Bree. A tiny outpost not too far from Bella's beloved province of the Shire, the village was a safe way station amid the dangerous tropical forests of Jamaica. For days he had searched that wild land. Eventually, heartsick and defeated, he had returned to the village with no new information. Whatever trail Thrain had left, it had long ago been washed away in the rains._

_While attempting to drown his sorrows in a particularly delicious Shire brew of ale at the local inn, he had become aware of the weight of several gazes upon his back. He would say this much for the agents of Mordor. They had the menacing routine down well. Subtlety, however, wasn't one of their strong suits._

_There were two at the table to his right and one on his other side. All three of them stared at him as though he just sprouted an extra head or showed that he was wearing lady's heels instead of boots._

_It was one thing to be stalked like a fox by a pack of hounds. It was quite another to be followed by an incompetent gaggle of morons who could hardly find their own mugs, let alone him. Maybe he could give them a few pointers with his fists or at the tip of his sword._

_"Mind if I take this chair?" A cultured voice interrupted his rumination, making him jump._

_An answer was apparently not required because a very tall man took the seat with a flourish, his long gray robes making puffs of dust explode from the floorboards. His pure white beard and hair nearly fell to the floorboards themselves._

_"Thorin Oakenshield, I presume?"_

_"Yes. You, however, need no introduction, Lord Gandalf the Grey," Thorin said evenly. What could a pirate lord, one of the Five, possibly want with him? It had been years since he had been involved with pirate politics of any kind besides what the gossips and exaggerated stories could tell him._

_Those sharp blue eyes momentarily twinkled. In that second it was hard to see the man as a vicious, cunning scourge of the high seas. He looked much more like a kindly grandfather. "Just Gandalf if you don't mind. You don't sound excited to meet me."_

_Thorin bit back a sharp retort with a sip of ale. He wasn't. Gandalf was the most visible of the Five and he had a rather troublesome reputation for meddling. Still, one didn't brush off a pirate lord. Not if one wanted to live. "Is there something I can help you with, Gandalf?"_

_"I dare say you can. Or maybe I'm the one helping you. This should be of some interest."_

_A ragged scrap of fabric with dark markings slid across the table towards him. Staring at it, Thorin could make neither head nor tails of it. It looked like something his nephews had drawn on ship timbers with charcoal sticks._

_"It's Black Speech. A promise of payment upon the delivery of the target."_

_Black Speech. It was the code Mordor taught all of its scum. However, it was effective. Thorin had no idea what is said. "Target?"_

_"Your head." Gandalf said. The tavern wench arrived and placed a plate of hard cheese and a hunk of bread before the old man. His voice lightened remarkably. "Ah, thank you my dear!"_

_Nice to know he was concerned. Thorin placed his mug on the fabric. Glancing around with a casualness he didn't feel, he could no longer find his biggest fans. Apparently they had been scared off by Gandalf's rather awful fashion sense._

_"So, what brings a character such as yourself to the outskirts of the Shire?"_

_"The what?"_

_"The Shire. It's the province to the West of here. Wonderful people with excellent taste in tobacco." A soft light entered his gaze and those eyes twinkled again. It would seem Gandalf had some ties to this side of Middle Earth, or an unfortunate preoccupation with the pipe._

_"There were rumors that Thrain has been spotted in the wilds here."_

_Gandalf shook his head slowly. "It has been an age since there has been anything but rumor about Thrain."_

_That wouldn't stop Thorin. He was going to find his father or the place he had been buried. After all that had gone wrong since Smaug had taken Erebor, Thorin needed the closure of seeing his father or finding out how he had met his end. "I refuse to believe he is dead."_

_"Stubbornness runs in your blood. Much like it does in my goddaughter's. She has a terrible habit of doing the exact opposite of what I say. Very well then, I will tell you what I told Thrain when last we met."_

_"And what is that?"_

_"Now is the time to make your move. Smaug has sat in your halls for far too long. He has not been seen in sixteen years. Call up the seven pirate armies! Remind them of the oath they swore, an oath of loyalty to your family. Fight!" Gandalf said with such intensity that Thorin hid a flinch._

_"Have you forgotten?" he hissed. "They swore that oath to he who holds the Aztec's jewel! That jewel was stolen by Smaug sixteen years ago!"_

_An odd, almost mischievous look overcame Gandalf's face. "What if I told you that I would help you reclaim Erebor? That I could find you a burglar who might have a few tricks to find that jewel, even steal it out from under Smaug's very nose."_

_Vicious, cruel hope rose in Thorin as he leaned back. A chance to go home again? To stop hiding in the shadows? No, it was impossible. He simply didn't have the strength of arms and men anymore to take on Smaug. "Then I would say that you are mad."_

_"Excellent. We start tomorrow. Do you think she might refill my ale?"_

Well, Bella was just as insane as her godfather. Though perhaps Thorin should include himself in the mad group since he had agreed to this quest as well.

"Think of the possibilities. You could baste us in an orange and rum reduction. Garnish our steamed flesh with the peel. Slice up a few to mimic the horror on our faces as you rip out our hearts." Bella said, her voice dropping into a smoky, alluring register. Had she been talking about anything else, Thorin might have found her sexy. She was already tied up and half naked.

Possibilities bloomed before his mind's eye. Bella calling him to bed with that voice. Bella willing and tied to his bunk, legs spread and rich curves tempting his touch. Bella draped across his lap, tasting of sea water.

What was happening to him? One would think he was a randy young boy who had just discovered that his cock could be used for more than pissing.

_Focus, damn it. Get the chit out and then figure out why you brain is malfunctioning._

Dwalin caught his eye and sent a flurry of hand signals. All the men were in place. Good. The sooner they finished this, the better.

"Oranges do sound nice," Bert said after a moment. "Remember how we used to spray them on the sailors from Singapore?"

"Ooooh. That was good. Where are these oranges?" Will asked eagerly.

Bella smiled serenely as if she hadn't a care in the world and wasn't at the mercy of cannibals. "Untie me and I'll take you directly to them."

"Let's hold her feet over the fire and then she'll tell us," Tom snapped. He lunged, caught Bella about the waist, and started carrying her to the fire.

Thorin ducked back below the railing, drew his sword, and sent a plan to Dwalin in quick motions.

"Then again, that might work, too." He heard Bella sigh.

"LET HER GO!"

Oh, don't let that be Kili breaking formation in an ill conceived attempt at heroism. Even his young nephew couldn't be that moronic....

"You what?" Tom asked.

"Who is that?" Came Bert's confusion.

"No idea. Can we eat him too?"

"I said, LET HER GO!"

That was definitely his nephew. If they made it out of this alive, Thorin was going to take the Trolls' fire and teach him a lesson about subtlety.

Throwing the plan to the sea, Thorin backed up a few paces, got a running start, and leapt over the banister. Hoarse cries came from all sides as he and his crew charged. The sea would run red with blood this day.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The run in with the Trolls begins and ends with a bang

The fight between the pirates and the Trolls was over quickly, but it was brutal. Forced by virtue of her bonds to watch in helplessness, Isabella could do nothing to stave off the end she sensed coming. 

Kili, lovable idiot that he was, attempted to do the heroic thing and launch a full frontal assault when Isabella was threatened instead of waiting to form a plan and take the Trolls unawares. It was a nice gesture, but one that would achieve fame only by gracing their tombstones in pretty poetry. 

The lad had a rough road ahead of him before he realized that heroism has little relevance in the world of piracy and thieves. You stayed alive by keeping your head down and looking out for yourself. Cynical, perhaps to assume that this was the way the world worked, but Isabella had learned long ago that to rely on others for your safety or your pleasure was a quick way to end up as a bloated corpse floating in the gutter, waiting for an enterprising, or desperate, person to relieve your swollen fingers of their bits of finery. Camaraderie came only through the link of convenience. People stuck together because they needed something the other offered or because they clung to romantic illusions about the human spirit. When the boy learned that, he would be better off in this world. 

With a roar, the Trolls lurched to their feet. Will batted Kili aside as easily as a child might knock away a gnat. The young man went flying and slammed against the mast with a sickly crunch. Struggling futilely at her bonds, Isabella managed to disrupt Bert's hold on her enough to return to the deck. Her face smacked into the unforgiving wood hard enough that she cut her tongue on her teeth, blood filling her mouth. 

Inching forward on her knees and elbows, Isabella managed to reach the sailors who were still bound as the rest of the pirates joined the fray. She squirmed until she could reach the rope tied about their hands and legs. As soon as she touched the rope, she knew it would take too long to free them. She needed something sharp. A knife would be best....

Bert thudded to the deck next to her, two pirates on his back. As Dwalin moved to strangle the Troll, Isabella threw herself forward and snagged the knife on the Troll's loincloth. Ugh. Now there was a place she had never thought her hands would go. 

"Aha! Thank you, gentlemen. Take him away." 

Dwalin grunted out something about pretentious nobles that Isabella didn't process as she sawed through her bindings. The feeling of being free was so elating, she couldn't think of anything else. She hated being bound with a passion that was matched only by her hatred of Mordor and its minions. 

As quickly as she could, Isabella freed the sailors and sent them over the railing to safety. The sounds of battle behind her grew steadily louder and the wind now carried the coppery scent of spilled blood. Heart in her throat, Isabella turned. If one of the men were injured because of her....

The two of the three Trolls were besieged by Thorin and his men. Bert and Will bled copiously from multiple gashes on their arms and bellies, and Bert's right arm was cocked at an odd angle as though broken. She had about three seconds to wonder where Tom had gotten to when large hands seized her from behind and pressed a blade to her throat. 

Ah. Found him. 

"DROP YOUR WEAPONS OR THE PRETTY LADY GETS IT." 

"Flattery will get you nowhere, my friend," Isabella muttered, shaking her head at Fili when he hesitated. "Just kill them. Don't worry about me." 

Thorin watched her before slowly, deliberately setting down his sword. Either that man had issues with authority or he had a plan. Praying fervently for the latter, Isabella was once again bound and forced to watch her companions fall prey to the same fate. 

The Trolls, congratulating themselves on catching a feast, decided to opt for the fancier method of meat preparation and constructed a large spit over their trough of fire. It was a little disconcerting watching the three men rip huge wooden beams from odd parts of the ship to make the soon to be implement of her torture and death. Isabella struggled against her bonds, but could do nothing to stop the Trolls from gathering half of the company and tying them to the spit. 

"Oh, hurry up! I'm famished!" Will whined. 

"I say we just eat them raw. Nothing better than a fresh pirate. Nice and crunchy!" Bert grabbed Bombur and directed the pirate's head into his gaping maw. 

As the men slowly rotated, a horrible, awful plan came to her mind. She thought she caught movement on the sea, coming towards them, that could be Gandalf. If she could stall for time....odds were this wouldn't end well, but what option did she really have? 

Absolutely none. 

"WAIT! Not THAT one!" Isabella scrambled to her feet. All eyes turned to her. "He's got worms in...in his tubes!" 

"UGH!" Bert dropped Bombur and hurriedly wiped his hands on his thighs. 

"What?" Tom demanded. 

Isabella blinked. She hadn't thought that would work so well. There was an obvious ending to her story, but now that it was working, she couldn't very well stop. "Yes. In fact, they all do. Nasty business, very nasty. I wouldn't risk it. I really wouldn't." 

The Trolls glanced at each other. 

"OI! I do NOT have worms!" Kili and Gloin bellowed together. 

Isabella closed her eyes in sheer frustration. Did any of them have an ounce of imagination? Would it be so difficult to just roll with the punches and trust her? 

When she opened her eyes, she caught Thorin looking at her curiously from across the waves of heat rising from the fire. Widening her eyes and glancing at Bombur, she tried to communicate her point. His own shadowed gaze glowed with comprehension and he kicked Kili in the back. His nephew looked around wildly and finally cottoned on. 

"I mean...I have tons of worms!" 

"Riddled with them!" Ori pipped up. 

Gloin nodded fervently. "I have huge worms." 

"Mine are the biggest!" Kili added. 

Nodding sharply in approval, Isabella turned back to the Trolls. 

Striding forward to crowd her personal space, Will poked Isabella in the chest. "What would you have us do then, let them all go?" 

"Well..."

Come on, Gandalf. Time was running out. 

"This ferret is taking us for fools!" He poked her again harder and she lost her balance, thudding to the ground. 

"Ferret!" Outraged, Isabella rolled to her knees. "I am not a ferret!" 

"Eat her first," Bert called. "Maidens are always good raw." 

Wondering if that was a thinly veiled sexual innuendo, Isabella edged backwards, pushing Ori along with her. 

"THE SEA WILL TAKE YOU ALL FOR FOOLS!" Gandalf's bellow made everyone turn except for Isabella who was hurriedly making for the other side of the Trolls' ship. 

"Who's that?" Tom wondered. 

"No idea. Can we eat him too?" 

CRASH! 

Gandalf had steered _Aulë's Craft_ straight into the side of the Trolls' ship. Splinters flew in every direction as the impact threw everyone to the deck. The ship rolled hard to port as the current carried the _Craft_ farther aboard. With an ear splitting crunch, the main mast snapped in half. 

The spit full of men teetered for a chilling moment before collapsing with a dull thud that was lost under Isabella's scream of pain as the trough full of flaming embers upended next to her. Hot coals scorched a path across her wet petticoats and exposed skin. Rolling to escape the burning agony, she found her back pressed against the railing as the whole ship began its final descent into the sea. 

The Trolls, much heavier than any of the pirates, tumbled over the side. Three large splashes announced their arrival into the sea and Isabella had a vicious hope that they couldn't swim. 

"Bella!" Someone called. 

"Here!" Holding her bound wrists over a particularly hot ember at her feet, Isabella waited for the rope to burn and release her. She kept one eye on the metal trough that looked as though it might make a break for the ocean- through her. "Come on, quickly, quickly," she muttered. 

The rope snapped and she tossed it off her wrists. Fumbling with the knots around her ankles, panic made the task infinitely more difficult. If that trough slid before she was free, Isabella would be pinned between red hot metal and the railing. 

Eons later the knots fell away and she scrambled to her feet. Leaping over the wooden spit the men had just disentangled themselves from, she ran straight into Thorin. His hands clasped her shoulders, steadying her as the deck pitched again to the side. Hissing as his fingers hit raw burns, Isabella had no choice but to clutch at him for stability. The man was stronger than the cliffs against the pounding sea. 

"Are you alright?" As soon as she regained her balance, he let go and bent to examine her injuries. His hair fell forward as he ducked his head, the long strands caressing her skin. 

Reflexively, Isabella kneaded Thorin's shoulders as she shivered. Gods, but the man was strong. "Fine. Or at least I will be once we get off this damned boat. Ship." 

"Those look nasty. You should put some poultice on them and wrap them up. Sea water will sting like a-" He cleared his throat. "It will sting horribly." 

Laughing despite the pounding of her heart, Isabella shook her head. "Don't feel like you have to watch your language around me, my lord. I bet I know more curses than you." 

"That wouldn't surprise me." He straightened, a hint of a smile playing around that harsh mouth. 

When neither of them made a move to step away, Isabella felt another rise of...it wasn't exactly panic. Anticipation. Each time her gaze darted down to Thorin's mouth she was filled with the most delicious sense of anticipation. She could almost feel the press of his lips against her, the warmth of his body as she pressed up close. 

"Bella..." Thorin rumbled, his gaze fixed on her parted lips. "This is a poor idea." 

"Yes, I'm sure it is. However, neither of us seem too fond of wise ones." If he wasn't going to take the initiative, Isabella could take a hint, but she thought that might be indecision warring with desire in his shadowed gaze. 

Thorin barked out a short laugh. "What man could pass up such an invitation?" 

His dark head bent, glacial gaze warming to calming seas. Isabella rose onto her toes and felt a butterfly brush across her lips. Thorin slipped an arm around her waist, dragging her close when...

"THORIN!" 

Suddenly Isabella and Thorin were ten feet apart. Though he had barely touched her, Isabella's skin felt too tight and her heart was thudding faster than when the Trolls had caught her. They stared at each other for several moments before the call repeated itself. 

Thorin snarled something under his breath, threw his hair over one shoulder, and glared at her. "Get back to the ship. If you always get caught this quickly, you'll be of no use to us in Erebor. Improve or I'll drop you off at the next dock we reach." 

She could only gape at him as he jumped the broken mast and disappeared into the wreckage. What a...cad! In sheer frustration she kicked the metal trough and paid for it with a burned toe. 

Weren't women supposed to be the emotionally flighty ones? Hadn't he wanted it as much as she did? 

All of her injuries accumulated into one deep ache. The burns pulled and stretched with each movement until she dreaded her next step. Shaking her head, Isabella hopped on one foot and headed back to the _Craft_. She was going to make Thorin pay for that brush off. It had stung more than all of the embers together. 

He was going to regret walking away so brusquely. Going to want her until he couldn't think of anything else. 

Oh, this was going to be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always let me know what you think!  
> Next installment might egg us towards that mature rating, but we shall see!


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is mostly fluff. So if you're interested in more action and less dialogue, stay tuned for the next installment- which hopefully will come time soon once things quiet down in 2 weeks.

The crew limped back to _Aulë's Craft_ , nursing mild injuries, and worse, bruised egos. They found nothing on the Trolls' ship of note apart from some rather large pots and pans that no one wanted to touch with a ten foot pole.

Thorin strode over to Gandalf as they waited for the current to finish separating them from the other ship. "If you damaged my ship old man...."

"Don't be ridiculous. I just saved your lives."

"No thanks to your burglar." Against his will, Thorin's gaze cut to Bella as she was helped back across the gangplank by Bofur. Even bedraggled and wearing the next best thing to rags, she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. There was something about her, something comfortable and yet untamed.

When she had tumbled into him earlier, Thorin had been ready to follow her to the deck and ravish her right then and there. And damned if she hadn't wanted him as much as he wanted her. He could have combusted on the spot from the amount of lust in her gaze and the lush sensuality of her lips.

Then reality, that cold, cruel mistress, interfered. Becoming involved with Bella was just asking for trouble and he had more than enough of that already. She was here to do a job and that was it. His lifestyle did not include the comforts of home that she was so found of mentioning, and dragging her into it for longer than it took to complete this task was unfair to both of them. Willing skirts abounded in most ports. He shouldn't be obsessed with only one.

Gandalf spoke, wrenching his attention back to the matter at hand. "She was the only one with enough sense to play for time. None of the rest of you thought of that."

Perhaps, but dwelling on Bella's intelligence was a slippery slope. "Since when have Trolls come down from the Ettenmoors?"

"Oh, not for an age." Gandalf's bushy eyebrows came together and he glanced back at the wrecked ship. "Not since a darker power ruled these waters."

Thorin acknowledged the point. People could dwell in ignorance if they wished, but there was no mistaking that the tides were changing. A cruel wind was setting to blow in from the north. "Bold of them to move so openly. They have precious few friends despite their powerful backing."

"Aye. They must have a port somewhere nearby."

It was all the invitation Thorin needed. The Trolls had quite the reputation of hoarders- second only to that of Smaug himself. Thorin bounded onto the deck and set course to backtrack the Trolls. Maybe something in the hoard would tell them more about why the Trolls had grown bolder.

At the helm, Thorin watched the men slowly return to duty, invigorated by the promise of treasure at the end of an adventure. A fierce grin stretched his mouth as he threw the wheel to the right. Maybe this day wasn't doomed to be such a failure after all.

Movement at the other end of the deck caught his eye. Bella limped towards the first officer's quarters which Dwalin had given up so she didn't have to bunk with the lads, wincing with every step as her burns grew redder and redder. He grimaced in sympathy. Burns were the worst.

Damn it. He shouldn't care. Bella and he lived in different worlds. Only heartache lay down that road. She was not part of his world. They had nothing in common.

Well, that wasn't strictly true. They had a whole lot of heat and lust in common.

Unaware that his feet were moving, Thorin found himself halfway across the deck before he realized it. "Dwalin, take the helm. I need to have a few words with our burglar."

"Aye," the large man grunted. "She's a wily one, but a terrible sneak."

So it seemed. Thorin corrected his course to snag something from his quarters before knocking once on Bella's door and slipping inside.

Sunlight poured in through the high, narrow windows, illuminating a cozy chamber with books stacked in precarious piles on the desk and floor. The bed was rumpled, a sight that sent Thorin's imagination straight overboard as he pictured what Bella would look like stretched out on its soft linen sheets.

Then he saw her and all thought stopped together.

At the sound of his entrance, Bella spun, clutching the remains of her petticoats to her chest, obviously disturbed in the act of undressing. The elegant lines of her bare shoulders drew his eye further down from the beguiling light of her jade gaze. Silhouetted against the sun's glow, Bella's curves came into lush relief behind the white fabric.

"My lord?" Bella asked a moment later. She tilted her head and curls splayed down her golden skin.

Mouth as arid as Smaug's conscience, Thorin could do nothing but stare. The images running through his head precluded speech.

Two steps and he could drag her into his arms. Return to the haven of her mouth before kissing his way down her slim neck. Run his tongue across each and every burn to ease the sting. Tear away the fabric to finally see her naked beauty.

"Thorin? Is something wrong?" Bella walked towards him, a subtle sway to her hips that he had never noticed before. She stopped within arm's reach, and the tang of sea salt and Bella's own gentle scent curled into his senses.

She was so warm, so alive, all the reasons that he had lectured himself about suddenly became ridiculous.

Clearing his throat, Thorin tried to remember how to speak. Had she asked him a question?

Damnation, he was not some innocent virgin to harden at the hint of a woman's heat.

And yet he had undeniably done just that.

"Are you feeling ill?"

Oh, now surely she didn't need to press so fully against him just to kiss his forehead. Bella stepped away a minuscule pace, still within the circle of his arms. "You don't seem to have a fever."

Not the traditional kind, no. But there was definitely fire in his blood.

Call him a coward, but Thorin retreated. Thrusting the jar of poultice he had nicked from his quarters between them, he said, "I brought this for your burns. You shouldn't let them go untreated."

Bella blinked slowly, a thread of amusement curling through her words. "How kind. Thank you. Would you mind helping me? I'm afraid I can't reach all of them."

 _Well done_ , Thorin chided himself. He should have seen that coming a league out. There was no graceful way to back out now, and he wouldn't even if he could. He was a descendant of Durin the Deathless and he could handle one woman.

Watching closely, he could see no coyness in her gaze, no guile. Only amusement, banked pain and the stirrings of desire. "Aye. Sit."

"I'm not keeping you from anything, am I?" Bella walked backwards so the petticoat would cover as much of her as possible.

Breath stuck in Thorin's chest as she aimed for the bed, but thankfully she sat on the desk chair at the foot of the bunk. He gritted his teeth and followed. Trying to remember all the reasons that this was a bad idea, he squatted before Bella and drew a leg into his lap.

When he saw her feet, he had to laugh. How could such a dainty lady have such large feet?

Bella gave a reluctant chuckle as she watched him. "I know. They're hardly the most attractive appendage, but they're useful. I can pick up small objects with my toes which is a surprisingly advantageous skill for a thief."

"I would think so," he agreed, startled by her pragmatism. Most women he knew would have hidden from view before showing, let alone laughing about, their physical flaws. It was devastatingly endearing and only added to the fire building in his blood.

Bella shifted in her seat, her slim calf sliding over the hard bulge in his trousers. Thorin hissed and eased back from her.

 _Focus. The faster you helper her, the faster you can get away_. He jerked off the lid to the poultice and tilted her leg. Most of the skin was a brilliant weeping red against the gentle tan that seemed to cover her from head to toe. "Gods, Bella. You did a nice job on yourself."

"You. Don't. Say," Bella said through a clenched jaw as the poultice hit her first burn.

"Don't worry, little one. I'll be quick." He touched her as gently as he could, wrapping her legs in long strips of fabric Bella kept handing him. It wasn't until he finished with her legs that he looked up and realized where the fabric had come from.

Bella's petticoat was now no more than one small sliver of bedraggled cotton that covered from the tips of her breasts to the hint of tight honeyed curls at the juncture of her thighs.

"Thank you, my lord. You are much more efficient at that than I would have been," Bella said. She sounded normal, bored even.

Thorin wrenched his gaze up to her face. Words...he needed to speak words. "Of course. Captain's duty to look after his crew. Anything else?"

"Yes. If you'll just turn around for a moment."

Thorin spun around so quickly on his heels that it was a miracle he didn't fall. Sounds of rustling fabric and Bella's odd gasp as the dress hit sensitive skin made for wild images racing through his head.

Gods damn it. He had never been so discomfited by anyone- woman or otherwise. What the hell was wrong with him?

"I thought you might appreciate this." Bella jerked his attention back to the present. A slim novel was extended towards him.

Thorin took it, rather bemused. She had changed into a simple dress of soft green. "What is it?"

The corner of her mouth quirked up, an enchanting light igniting in her gaze. "That, my lord, is what we call a book. You see, many years ago, mankind learned how to make little lines represent the sounds coming out of their mouths. It was a miracle really. Probably invented by a woman who was tired of the communication gap between her and her husband."

He chuckled. "That is the best theory I've ever heard."

"Why, thank you." She dipped him a graceful curtsy. "Anyway, if you ever have a moment."

"I'll keep it in mind." The novel had a soft leather cover. The title, imprinted in elegant script, read _The Decameron_ by Giovanni Boccaccio.

"It's one of my favorites." Bella ran her fingers across the words. As she withdrew her hand, her fingertips ghosted over his fist. The delicate caress could have been accidental, but somehow Thorin didn't think so.

Two, faint spots of color ignited high on Bella's cheek bones though her gaze remained steady.

As he stared at her, Thorin remembered the readiness with which she had accepted his embrace. If he were to drag her into his lap to continue what Balin had interrupted on the Trolls' ship, he had no doubt that Bella would respond with the uninhibited sensuality that so attracted him.

She might be reserved, but beneath that careful, proper exterior lay a passionate heart and determined mind.

"Why?"

"Why is it my favorite? Hmm...I suppose for several reasons. It's about the power of language and stories. These people managed to survive one of the darkest times in history by escaping into their imaginations." Bella gaze grew distant as if she were worlds away.

"And the power of camaraderie and family?" Thorin guessed, flipping through the first few pages.

If her hand hadn't still been so close to his, he would have missed the slight flinch that went through her. "Yes, I suppose so."

Curious. He wondered what that was all about. "Thank you."

"Of course. If you like this one, I'll have you read the story about Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. Oh, and then there is this fantastic retelling of-"

Shaking his head on a laugh, Thorin pressed a gentle finger to her lips. "I think you overestimate my amount of free time, little one."

"Perhaps, but one should always make time for reading. It's a whetstone for the mind and a balm for the soul."

"Aptly put." He murmured. Tucking the book into a pocket, he swept a bow over her hand. "Rest well, my lady."

Thorin returned to the helm and took back the wheel from Dwalin. The sea breeze ruffled the pages of Bella's book as he started reading, looking up every so often to check the course.

It was an engrossing novel. Thorin made mental notes along the way to ask Bella what she thought about certain parts. None of the other men were too found of the written word besides Balin and Oin. Oin only read medicinal texts, and Balin wouldn't read anything that didn't contain satire of some sort. It would be a few minutes Thorin and Bella could have guaranteed to themselves.

Had that been her purpose in giving it to him?

It had been rather abrupt when she had handed him the book. Why the sudden change? Was it some odd game of seduction to which he didn't know the rules?

Thorin glanced up when the door to Bella's chambers opened. She walked over to where Gandalf sat in contemplation of his pipe, disguising a slight limp. There was no subtle sway to her hips now.

Oh yes. This was a game. One with a very sweet reward. Darling Bella had no idea what she was getting herself into. If she wanted to play with fire, he'd be more than happy to stroke the embers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, feel free to let me know what you think! 
> 
> I hope everyone is enjoying the change of the seasons. We're currently buried under snow. 
> 
> Also, you should read the Decameron. It's awesome.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pirates investigate the Troll hoard and take up running as a hobby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay between updates. Busy days et al.  
> As always, let me know what you think!

They anchored the ship in a small cove, only a few hundred meters from shore. The land was rich with life- thick, overgrown forests with the chirping of birds and the hum of insects. The tree line began almost on top of the crashing waves, so eager was the forest to expand. Cliffs, a steep slope up from the white sandy beach, encompassed the cove like two grasping arms, and mountains smothered in green emerged from the forest a few miles inland.

As they rowed the dingy to the shore, Thorin saw Bella's relief to be on solid land again in the relaxing of her shoulders. _Just another reason you two don't have any business playing this game,_ a small voice in his head spoke up.

Though the voice made a certain amount of sense, Thorin silenced it when he helped Bella out of the boat and her soft weight pressed against chest. Breathing deeply he caught the waft of rose which always seemed to emanate from her. The scent nipped at his mind and then she was gone, walking away to join Gandalf further up the beach.

Growling to himself, Thorin helped secure the boat and followed. Gandalf seemed a little too excited about where they were and he didn't have the excuse of sea sickness. What was the old man up to now?

"I don't think the hoard will be too hard to find," Bella murmured as he came up to them.

"Oh? What makes you say that?"

She pointed to the forest. A tunnel of broken branches and trunks painted with odd reddish-brown smears carved through the dense growth.

Well, no one had ever accused the Trolls of being subtle.

"Gentlemen!" he roared. The pirates glanced up, followed his line of sight, and grinned. Everyone hoisted their weapons and gear onto their shoulders and started forward.

It was a bit of a hike up to the hoard. The Trolls had stashed their ill gotten gains in a crudely dug cave in the foothills. Had they not been so arrogant and confident that their reputation would protect their riches, the hoard might have been inaccessible. A mammoth boulder sat just next to the entrance that all three Trolls might have managed to move together, and had they rolled in it front of the cave, Thorin knew he and his men would have walked away empty handed.

Which, at the moment, sounded like a nice prospect. The stench emanating from the cave was rank enough to curdle milk.

"It's a Troll hoard," Gandalf snapped when they all hesitated. "What were you expecting?"

"I don't know. A lick of paint. A chandelier of skulls. I should think that even the Trolls would have some sense of style," Bella said cheekily under her godfather's scowl.

"Or a sense of scent," Fili chuckled.

Shaking his head, Thorin directed them into the dim cave, every second man carrying a torch. Bella hung back in the middle as if unconvinced for the wisdom of entering such a place. It was odd, he reflected, how at times the woman could be suicidally brave and the next be about as adventurous as a cuckolded English gentleman. She had yet to comprehend the notion of 'safety in numbers' or 'numbers' at all. A more independent person Thorin had yet to meet.

Gloin, Nori and Bifur discovered a chest of coins- gold guineas, copper ones out of East Asia, silver dollars from the burgeoning country to their north- and set about digging a hole in which to hide it, as "a long term investment". Deciding he wanted nothing to do with that particular venture, Thorin nudged aside a pile of filth with his boot and found a silver necklace set with emeralds as large as his eyes. The sight of it turned his stomach, and not only for how much that might make on the open market. The Trolls must have killed, plundered, and eaten a gentle lady to acquire such a piece.

Thorin and his crew might be pirates, but they never touched the innocent.

"What gorgeous blades," Gandalf murmured from a few feet away. He had found a rack of swords, their hilts covered with muck and cobwebs. The Trolls would have had no use for them, preferring to fight with their bare fists, but neither had they been willing to give up such beautiful craftsmanship.

"These are not of Troll make. Nor anything Mordor would outfit its scum with," Thorin replied, pulling one off the rack.

Gandalf took its mate and unsheathed it an inch. "Nor any work of the Caribbean men. These were forged by the smiths of in Gondolin in the years long ago, beyond reckoning."

The old fences, or Elves as they were called for their fastidious and exacting nature, had made these? Hah. Their fate of waiting until the end of the earth, collecting dust, was a just one. Nothing those faithless bastards made ever came to any good: be it plans, weapons, or friendships.

As he set the blade back, Gandalf snapped at him. "You could not wish for a finer blade, Thorin!"

Unbelieving, he paused and then drew the sword. The light from their torches splayed and danced across the curved steel. The weight of it in his hand was akin to seeing the last star of night: bittersweet with promise. This was a blade that would not betray the hand that held it, nor would it ever lose its keen edge or grace.

Well, embittered and prejudiced as he was, Thorin was not one to turn down such a gift, unlooked for and much needed as it was. Stowing the sheath in his belt, Thorin caught sight of Ori and Kili heading farther into the cave. Time was pressing and it was never a good idea to wander heedless in the depths of a place that had known such darkness.

"Come! We must return to the ship."

Balin and Dwalin looked relieved to be out of the filth, followed closely by Bella and Bofur. The others came only reluctantly after they were sure their pockets were full and what they had buried was secure.

Gandalf tarried behind, but Thorin didn't wait. Dark things might live in that place though none would be foolish enough to attack one of the Five while daylight still held sway outside.

He did a rapid headcount before sending Fili to hike to the top of the hillside they stood beneath to see what surrounded them. By the time he was sure everyone was accounted for, Gandalf had returned and handed something to Bella. Instinctively, she reached out to take it, before something about it made her recoil.

Sidestepping, Thorin craned his neck to see what it was. It appeared to be a sword, more like a fancy knife really, with a leather embossed handle and leaf-shaped blade.

"No. I don't need that," she said firmly.

"Do you not? Can you see so far down your path? Even the very wise cannot see all ends, Isabella."

Convoluted old man. Did he ever say anything with only one meaning to his words? Still, Thorin hid a smile, imagining Bella brandishing such a small weapon against something as fearsome as a Troll.

"Godfather...I don't...I can't...Hmph." Bella closed her eyes briefly. When she spoke again, her voice became strained and low. "I'm a thief, not a fighter. There are some lines I will not cross."

Gandalf placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Courage is more than just being willing to take a life in defense of something you love, Isabella. True courage is knowing when to spare a life, no matter the consequences that will occur."

"Something is coming!" Fili called, scrambling back down the rocks. The boy already had his sword drawn. Despite his calm facade, Thorin could read the anxious tension written in his tight posture and clenched teeth.

He nodded to him. Though neither Fili nor Kili were bad in a fight, they weren't exactly battle tested either. This was, as their mother so kindly nagged him, their first real chance to prove themselves and gain the experience Fili needed as Crown Prince.

Thorin didn't mind helping season the boys. They had the training and it was as much their birthright as it was his, but Dis's constant threats to his person should he take them into real danger grated on his nerves. Did she think he wanted to see them dead? Life was dangerous. There was no pretending otherwise, yet Thorin would do his damnedest to make sure Fili and Kili stayed safe.

"Arm yourselves!" Thorin drew his new sword and sent everyone to a nearby clearing where they might have some chance of defending their lives. With dense tree cover like this, it would be nearly impossible to see what was coming until it was on top of them.

That was the beauty of fighting on the sea or at Erebor. Everything had to cross long sections of open water or land before it became a true threat. They had time to plan, time to prepare. Now, that wasn't to say he and his men couldn't, or didn't, excel at a rabble fight. They were pirates after all.

However, there were few who could match the strategic prowess of the pirates of Erebor.

That was one of the reasons he hated this whole escapade. There was precious little time to plan and prepare. All they could do was sail full speed ahead and roll with punches as they came. It made his jaw clench as he considered how many things could go wrong.

But what choice did he have? This could be their only chance to reclaim Erebor.

How though? How could he do this with only thirteen men and a woman who had more reservations than the king's clerk? His cousin, Dain, and all the other pirate lords had refused to come to his aid. True, one of the Five was on his side, but Gandalf had told him from the beginning he would not always be there.

Despair threatened to curl up from his feet and sap his strength. Thorin tightened his grip on the sword hilt. He couldn't give into that. He had twelve men with him who had answered when he called. Courage, a willing heart. Thorin could ask no more than that.

"Gives me a sword. A sword! Me! And what do I say to him? 'Thank you!' Heavens above! That's how I got into this mess. Too polite to say no," Bella muttered darkly as she stepped up next to Bofur.

Twelve hearty pirates, a pirate lord, and a polite thief. Thorin let out a silent sigh. Smaug was going to laugh them out of Erebor.

"THIEVES! MURDERERS!" A rough cry came from just up ahead.

"Well, it's always good to be recognized," Nori sniggered from Thorin's left.

Dori reached over and slapped him upside the head.

"MURDEREEEEERS!" Six rabbits the size of dogs burst from the trees. Attached to their backs was a rough hewn sleigh carrying a man dressed all in brown. His robes were stained with green leaves and bird droppings, and draped over one shoulder. Thick, white hair was tangled and looked like nothing so much as a birds nest. "Oh, hello, Gandalf."

"Radagast? Radagast the Brown? Whatever are you doing here?" Gandalf stepped forward and helped the man off the sleigh.

This Radagast was much shorter than Gandalf. His face an exotic lilt to it and his voice carried echoes of knowledge and foreign climes. "Something is wrong. Something is terribly wrong."

Thorin smiled grimly. Something was always terribly wrong these days.

Gandalf pulled the man to the side, and they began a hurried and tense discussion. The rest of the pirates milled around as they talked. Fili and Kili struck up a practice fight while Balin and Oin devolved into some rhetoric they had been arguing about for three years now. Dwalin started to pace, Dori, Nori and Gloin returned to the cave, and the three cousins began a game of catch with some nearby stones.

It wasn't until he had followed Dwalin around the clearing to work off some nervous energy that Thorin realized he couldn't see Bella anywhere. Stopping, he spun in a circle and tried to find her behind Bombur or sitting next to Oin, adding her opinion to the argument, or even watching the three spelunkers explore. But she was no where to be found.

"Have you seen Bella?"

Dwalin just grunted and jerked his chin towards the trees.

What on earth? Ah. A flash of burgundy caught his eye from an enormous bay tree to his left. Bella's dark red dress was tangled in the leaves as she reclined on a thick branch. From somewhere she had produced a slim novel and hummed to herself as she read it.

Nice to know she was concerned about these sorts of situations.

"Bella?" Fili sheathed his sword, having beaten his brother handily for the second time, and came to stand at the base of the tree.

"Hmm?"

"Can I beg a moment of your time?"

She sat up and marked her place in the book with a leaf. "Of course. Shall I come down or would you like to join me up here?"

"I'll come up."

Listening in would mean stopping at the base of the tree, a little too obvious perhaps, so Thorin continued pacing around the clearing, though now at a faster rate. Each time he looped around he should be able to catch a snippet of conversation and figure out what they were discussing.

It wasn't that he thought his nephew and heir was consorting with the burglar to start some sort of mutiny, but Thorin was the captain and leader of this expedition. Any serious conversations needed to be routed through him if they concerned the welfare of anyone aboard the ship. Thorin was a reasonable man, and everyone needed to realize the danger they were headed into and what was at stake. Secrets or miscommunication of any kind could ruin what little hope they had.

"-I don't think that will matter."

"No?"

"Perhaps you should consider why you are doing this. Family, love, honor, greed, power. Then you might assuage your worries." Bella tucked her feet up beneath her, balancing elegantly on the branch.

"Why are you doing this?" The words fell from Thorin's lips before he even realized he had spoken.

Both Fili and Bella startled, nearly falling out of the tree. "Beg your pardon?"

"Why are you doing this, Lady Isabella?" he repeated. "Why give up your beautiful home and spoilt life?"

Those lush lips opened to answer him with what Thorin was sure was going to be a lie when a guttural howl blasted through the woods. The usually quiet scrape of sword against sheath was magnified ten times over as everyone spun to identify the new threat.

Fili jumped out of the tree and helped Bella down.

"There are wolves in these woods!" Dori exclaimed.

"That was no ordinary wolf. That was one of the Orcs' blasted fiends," Thorin growled. The Orcs, sailors and slaves of Mordor Trading, had plagued the seas of Middle Earth for ages. Rabble rousers and honorless murderers, they were more despised than any pirate.

A soft growl made the hairs on the back of Thorin's neck stand on end. His breathing settled into the rhythm of battle as he turned on one heel.

An enormous wolf, scars crisscrossing its maimed face, crouched ten meters behind him, ready to pounce. Eager to devour.

In one swift motion, it leapt. Thorin drew his sword. The blade flashed in the early morning light as fetid breath flooded his face. Sidestepping, he struck and the Warg, as such monstrosities were called, died before it hit the hard earth.

"Warg scout. We need to move. Head for the ship."

"We're surrounded!" Dwalin bellowed from his post to the southwest.

"How did they find us? Is this just a lone scout?" Balin echoed Thorin's thoughts.

"Who did you tell beyond your kin? Who else knows where you are going?"

Thorin shook his head at Gandalf. "No one! I swear, no one else knows. What is going on?"

"You are being hunted."

Bloody brilliant. Of course they were.

"I'll draw them off," Radagast said suddenly.

Gandalf favored him with an exasperated scowl. "These are Gundabad Wargs. They will catch you."

"These are Rhosgobel rabbits. I'd like to see them try," the odd man said, fondly patting his sleigh.

Gandalf gave a sharp nod. "The rest of you, prepare to run. If we can't make it directly to the ship, we'll head farther inland."

"I will not abandon my ship," Thorin snapped.

"Then you will abandon your, and your crew's, life."

Wonderful options. Thorin kept a hold of the sword and barked at everyone to fall in line. Bella stood next to the Warg he had killed, the dagger held limply in her grasp.

"The Orcs have bred them for years. They make them fight when they're bored and they are no innocents to slaughter." Thorin told her, nudging her towards the others with a hand on her shoulder.

"That's..." Her beautiful features twisted in revulsion. "Poor beasts."

"They have killed more people than many Orcs."

"That does not mean I can't feel pity for them. Actions are rarely so black and white, Thorin. What choice does a beast have against the whip and the cruel hand?" She bent down and pressed a kiss between the Warg's ragged ears. "Rest in peace. May the next life be kinder to you than this one." With that she straightened, avoided his gaze and slipped between Bofur and Bifur in the line.

Biting his tongue, Thorin nodded to Gandalf and they left the clearing as fast as their legs could carry them. Bella needed to grow a thicker skin. Life was cruel. There was precious little they could do about that besides see that Justice prevailed where they could. And if they couldn't well, perhaps a little pillaging and retaking Erebor would help even the scales.

Excited howls shattered the peace of the forest. The Orcs had seen Radagast.

"RUN!"

And if Thorin knew anything about Fate, this was going to be the highlight of the day.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orcs attack and the secrets of the nearby land are unearthed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm playing with time a bit in this one. Not in Middle Earth, but in our own history. Toussaint L'Ouverture lived in the latter part of the 18th century, a bit too late for this story if he was the figure of Beren, so I fudged the implied dates and suggested he lived much earlier.

Isabella was at once both having the time of her life, and preparing to keel over and die. Gentle born ladies did not, as a rule, run for any longer than it took to elbow the other debutante out of the way when she was eyeing your prime piece of husband material. And that was only allowed if said material was a duke or an earl with a tidy yearly income. 

So Isabella was greatly enjoying the race through the woods, jumping over roots and rocks, flying on the wings of the wind. She had never once been allowed to move at such speed, and her skill at thieving kept her from having to run away from guards and irate property owners. Her skirts blossomed and billowed with every step, her hair struggled free of its pins and danced against her back, her face split wide in a smile. 

That being said, gentle born ladies did not, as a rule, have the musculature nor physical stamina to run at this pace for very long. Her muscles had started a rebellion whose manifesto was quickly adopted by her lungs and disseminated by her heart. If they wanted to avoid these Wargs and keep their burglar, one of the pirates was going to have to carry Isabella rather soon. 

Then again, that might be hard to do since none of them had put away their weapons. She shook her head. One stumble and whoops! No need to continue on to Erebor. Thorin has been impaled on his own sword. 

"Wait!" Gandalf put out an arm to stop them. His wrist caught poor Ori across the neck. The boy's feet went out from under him and he landed hard on his back. Isabella would have helped him, but it was all she could do not to fall over herself. Hands on her knees, she bent double, trying to convince her lungs to take in air again. 

Sweet acorns! How were the rest of them still standing? 

"I take it her slim figure doesn't come from exercise," Fili sniggered to his brother. 

Isabella wheezed at him. 

Thorin glared them into silence, and not a moment too soon. Barks and the sound of thudding feet passed by not twenty meters to their left. Everyone dropped to the ground, hiding in the underbrush. Cautiously, Isabella turned her head to watch the paws of the rabbits and then the wolves flash past. Had any of them been standing, they would have been seen, sure as death. 

"Up! To the north!" Gandalf hissed. 

Somehow Isabella found the strength to stand and start running again. As she jogged past Thorin and her godfather, she heard Thorin demand, "where are you leading us?" 

Gandalf just gave him a long look and set his long legs to moving. 

Oh, this could only end well. 

Isabella tried to look around as she ran, but there were too many protruding roots just waiting to trip her for sightseeing. So she had no sense of her bearings or if she had even ever been to this island at all as they ran. 

"Tomorrow," she promised herself, "I am not wearing a corset."

All of those who heard her looked up in anticipation. Isabella made a rude hand gesture at them.

"I've never seen that one before. Can you teach it to me?" Kili asked eagerly. 

She sighed. 

They popped out of the forest onto an open plain of gentle, green grass swaying in the sea breeze. All of their cover disappeared in two feet. Thorin ordered everyone to a halt while still in the tree line and they watched the valley for painful minutes before Gandalf waved them forward. 

"Carefully," Gandalf muttered. There was no sign of the hunters. "To that rock over yonder." 

"Where are we going?" Dwalin demanded. 

Again, Isabella's godfather ignored the query and ushered them all forward. Though they moved as quietly as possible, the pirates couldn't stifle the gentle clanking of the chain mail embedded in their leather jerkins, nor the brush of battle axe handles against stone. 

A growl rumbled above them, reverberating like the crashing of the sea in Isabella's chest. They had all paused beneath an outcropping of moss covered stones when she let out a warning hiss. Unfortunately, as the rush from the fight had overcome her inherent control and reserve, leaving only fear and breathless anticipation, the warning hiss came out more as an anxious squeak. 

Thorin stared at her for a moment, the corner of his mouth twitching suspiciously under his scruff. Her eyes promising death should he laugh, Isabella tried to catch her breath quietly. 

Kili followed the head jerk from his uncle, and stepped out a pace, an arrow already in his bow. Dark eyes scanned the hilltop before the string twanged. A uniformed man tumbled off the rocks to stop at their feet. His leathers were ragged, dirty and covered in strange markings. The clothing was nothing compared with his facial piercings. Odd pieces of metal disfigured his expression into a perpetual snarl. 

Before the man could let out the alarm, Dwalin chopped his head off in one stroke. 

Closing her eyes, Isabella swallowed hard. She had to try again once a loud bark came from the southeast, her mouth dry. They had been found. Her heart making a new home for itself in her throat, Isabella gave her godfather a wide eyed glance. He had to have a plan, right? 

"RUN!" Gandalf yelled. 

Then again, maybe he didn't. 

She took a deep breath and bolted.

They ran. And ran. And ran some more. Just when Isabella was positive she was about to die, the pirates came to an abrupt halt. 

"We're surrounded!" 

"Again?" Isabella gasped. "How does this keep happening?" 

"Kili! Shoot them!" Thorin bellowed. "The rest of you, stand firm!" 

Hating the situation, the people who had dragged her here, and herself for considering this, Isabella drew her sword, and tried not to let her fingers shake too obviously. 

"Steady, little one," Thorin said softly in her ear. "Steady." 

"I'm sure there is a better pet name. I'm not that small," Isabella murmured. Her nerves jumped and shimmered as the Wargs slowly came closer and closer, their riders brimming with bloodlust. 

"Just small enough," he agreed before darting forward to cover Dwalin's back as Wargs rushed the tattooed pirate from both sides. Isabella barely had time to process that comment before Ori nudged her in the ribs. "Where's Gandalf?" 

"He's abandoned us!" Dwalin cried as he wrenched his axe from the dying Orc. 

Idiot. Isabella didn't bother responding to that as she looked around. Gandalf would never leave them high and dry. He was up to something. 

"This way you fools!" His bushy gray head and hat appeared behind the rock they were currently all huddled around. 

Isabella frowned at him. This way where? 

Thorin jumped atop the rock and extended a hand which she readily took when another howl rent the air. "Quickly, Bella. Everyone down!"

Sliding down a shoot of stone, Isabella scrambled to her feet to avoid getting squished by the pirates as they followed. They seemed to be standing in a long tunnel that had been carved long ago into smoothness. How had they done this? There were no markings from pickaxes nor mattocks. Isabella stared around in wonder as Kili and then Thorin kicked up dust with their landing. Gandalf did a head count and nodded sharply to himself. Meanwhile, Dwalin had headed farther into the tunnel. "I cannae see the end of it. Do we follow?" 

Strange sounds and cries came from above just as an Orc tumbled down the slope. Thorin pulled out the arrow protruding from the man's neck. "Rumrunners." 

"Elves," Balin echoed only with much less scorn. "They always did have good timing." 

Thorin gave him such a dead look, Balin paled to the color of his hair. 

"Of course we follow!" Bofur cried. 

If the rumrunners were outside, then maybe they were close to Rivendell. Isabella walked quickly, nudging Bifur to greater speed. She had heard such wonderful stories of that place. Now might be her chance to see it. 

"Now, this will require a great deal of skill, subtly and charm," Gandalf said as they walked. "Which is why you will leave all the talking to me."

"What will? Where are we?" Ori wondered aloud as the tunnel turned to mountainside and their feet found the start of a mountain path. 

A wide cove opened before them . Crystalline blue waters sparkled gayly in the afternoon sun against pure, sandy beaches that gently gave way to rolling, grassy hills and banana trees jostling merrily in the breeze. Impossibly, elegant buildings floated on the gentle tide, a whole city's worth of houses and businesses open to the cool wafts off the water. Canals separated one house from another. Isabella could see the small figures paddling traditional Gommier wood canoes, calling out to each other in song and jest. 

Farther into the water, beautiful, huge ships were anchored. Many of the whitewashed ships were carven in likeness to swans, their prows pointed towards the open ocean, awaiting their next adventure. 

"The last Homely House south of the Tropic of Cancer." Gandalf said, a touch of reverence in his tone. "Home to the most cunning fences and rumrunners in Middle Earth. Their vast storehouses of goods and books and art fill this city. Imladris it was once called. In the common tongue of the West, however, it is known as-" 

"Rivendell," Isabella breathed. She had read so many stories about the House of Elrond, dreamt of one day finding a way to the hidden port. It was hard to believe that she was finally staring at its beautiful archways and intricate bridges.

There was something about the soft blues and whites of the walls, powerful murals, and lush vines spiraling down from under the eaves of houses that proclaimed here was a place where no evil would ever dare come. Here was a place of peace and memory. 

"They say that any tale ever told can be heard in its halls," she spoke, hardly aware that her thoughts gained voice. 

"They also say never to trust a fence," Dwalin grumbled from behind her. 

"Lord Elrond is on of the Five," she pointed out. "I hardly think he is going to try and steal your beard ornaments. Besides, they are the ones that sell all of your ill gotten gains to respectable clients. Without them you would be as poor as a dormouse." 

"Not an ornament, but definitely our quest. He will not approve." Thorin looked angry enough to boil Gandalf alive. "This was your plan all along, wasn't it?" 

"Perhaps. There is no ill will in this place besides which you bring in yourself. Elrond can help us read the map. Or perhaps you wish to lose all hope of reclaiming your homeland for the sake of an old pain in which these folk played no part. It is, as it always has been, your choice Thorin Oakenshield." Gandalf met the pirate's gaze steadily. 

The contest of wills was so strong, Isabella and the others were nearly casualties. Hands clenched into fists, Thorin glanced away and jerked his head to the port down below. No one spoke as they descended the winding path to the water. Maybe, like Isabella, they were all flummoxed that Thorin had compromised on something without keeling over from the shock of it. 

Then again, maybe they were just all cowed into silence by the force of the scowl now dominating Thorin's handsome face. 

"O! What are you seeking  
And where are you making?  
The faggots are reeking,  
The bannocks are baking!  
O! tril-lil-lil-lolly  
the valley is jolly,  
ha! ha!  
O! Where are you going  
With beards all a-wagging?  
No knowing, no knowing,  
What brings Mistress Baggins  
And Balin and Dwalin  
down into the valley  
in June  
ha! ha!" 

The odd song spun lazily up the cliffside; its melody lilting and energetic. Isabella found herself humming along, just about bursting with excitement to reach the hallowed halls. Perhaps she would be fortunate enough to listen to some of the old tales from the mouth of Elrond himself. She had always been fascinated by the stories Gandalf told her growing up of people far back in the mists of time, and the story of Eärendil was her favorite: His heroism and the strength of Elwing, the bittersweet end, the hope and sorrow of such times.

"Gandalf?" Isabella darted past Dori, one foot pausing momentarily on open air as she skirted the edge of the narrow path. The mother hen that was Dori gasped and clutched at her dress as she flashed past. "How do they know my name?" 

"Not much happens in this part of the world that escapes the notice of the Elves, dear one," he replied. 

"Ah." That wasn't exactly an answer, but she knew if she pressed, he would delight in confusing her all the more. "Do you think we can hear tales of Toussaint L'Ouverture? It's said that Lord Elrond is descended from him on his mother's side." 

"It is possible. Though I would not ask for such stories. Simply listen if they are volunteered. The people of Imladris are generally a happy folk, but the Elves can be prone to weariness and despair much as we are." 

Isabella blinked at him. 

He chuckled and kissed the side of her head. "My mistake. I often forget how sturdy Shire-folk are. Perhaps I should say they are given to ennui much as some of us are. The Elves have memories stretching back beyond reckoning and while they hold such stories dearer than you can know, they also remind them of all that has changed in the world when they have not." 

"They are leaving, aren't they?" Balin spoke up. "The Elves, I mean. We hear tales in the Blue Mountains about how the Elves of Rivendell and Lórien over in Puerto Rico are sailing West, never to return." 

"Aye." Gandalf sighed. "They feel that their time in Middle Earth is coming to an end." 

The thought of such wonderful people, even though Isabella had never before met an Elf, made her incredibly sad. What would the world be when those who knew its history best were gone? 

After a few hours of careful descent, the party found the water. The voices who had been singing to them the whole way down gained flesh and form. Four Elves each stood next to a canoe, cunning smiles on their faces. Another Elf, his dusky skin glowing like burnished bronze in the decaying light, stepped forward at their approach. "Mithrandir! Bienvenue kay nou!" 

"Lindir, Li se yon plezi pou wè ou ankò." Gandalf touched his right hand to his chest and then swept it outward. Lindir mirrored the gestured and bowed his head deeply. 

"Is Lord Elrond at home?" They switched back to the common tongue from Haitian Creole. 

The man shook his head slowly, his long, black cornrows shifting over his crisp, linen tunic of twilight gray. "No. My Lord Elrond is out at the moment. I could-"

Clear, crisp notes of battle horns rang across the water. Before the sound had fully died, men sprung from the rocks behind them, armed to the teeth. 

"Ogun ipo!" Thorin bellowed. 

The strange words flew straight over Isabella's head, but the other pirates understood. Bofur grabbed her by the neck of her dress and hauled her backwards into the middle of the circle the pirates formed. Thorin must have spoken the secret language of the pirates. Only those descended from Durin the Deathless were allowed access to its words and speech. 

The warriors walked in circles about them, hemming them in from the path back into the mountains, the water, and from Gandalf. Isabella could just see the tip of his hat over the heads of the wary men now watching them. 

Striding forward from the cage with an air of confidence that only came after many hardships in life, a tall man smiled at Gandalf. The rest of his company stopped walking and turned respectfully towards him. His face was an arresting blend of African, Middle Eastern and Caucasian influences with strong, wide bone structure, and brilliant, laughing eyes the color of hearth and home. Unlike Lindir, his thick locks were bare, held back only by a thin circlet of hammered silver. He wore a heavy leather jerkin with gold inlay over his shirt of burgundy silk, and he carried a sword at his hip, its hilt in the image of a man's fist. 

"Elrond!" Gandalf repeated the gesture of hand to heart. "Zanmi mwen! Ki kote ou te ye?" 

Elrond's response was equally indecipherable to Isabella and her companions, but he soon switched languages. "Strange for Orcs to come so close to our lands." 

"Strange for Orcs to be in this part of Middle Earth at all," Oin muttered. 

Isabella arched an eyebrow, inviting him to continue. 

"Elves hate Orcs more than pirates do. They have a far bloodier history, which is saying something considered how deeply our hatred runs. Only Orcs wishing to meet their ends come this far west. Lord Elrond tolerates no filth in his domains. They tortured his wife, and that is not a hurt easily forgotten." 

"Oh, dear." Isabella winced. Watching a loved one suffer was a pain no one deserved. Such sorrows inherent in Life were part of the reason Isabella saw fit to avoid all attachments beyond her godfather now that her parents were gone. Life was pain as much as it was joy, and only a fool invited more sorrow through love. 

"Welcome, Thorin, son of Thrain." Elrond turned to their leader. "I knew your grandfather many a year ago."

"Funny. He made no mention of you." The snideness in Thorin's voice was so apparent, Isabella half expected to see it gain form.

Gandalf shut his eyes briefly in utter exasperation, but Elrond shrugged off the implied insult. He gestured to the city. "Vini, pataje nou tab la. Mouri, yo, Ri ak fè jwaye" 

"What does he say? Does he offer us insult?" Gloin shook his fist at Elrond. 

"Shut your mouth!" Isabella hissed, dragging him backwards. "We are guests here." 

Elrond turned his sharp gaze to her, the gravity there lightening momentarily. "Ah. A Halfling from the Shire. You do us a great honor, Mistress Baggins." 

Isabella curtsied. Fences these people may be, but they had flawless manners. 

"No, Master Gloin. He does not. He is offering you food." Gandalf sighed. 

"Oh. Very well, then," Gloin said, mollified. 

Thorin and Dwalin exchanged a long look before they followed the Elves onto the canoes. "A lo baluwe ati awọn ti a fi."

Sure that could mean nothing good, Isabella glared at Thorin. If he kept her from exploring the wonders of Rivendell, he would rue the day he was born. She would ensure that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Elves are speaking Haitian Creole and the secret Dwarvish language is Yoruba. I can play with the different variants of Creole for the different Elvish dialects if I need to, and I tried to have the Dwarves speak Lucumi from Cuba, derived from Yoruba, since it is a secret language in this timeline, but they are too secretive for me to find enough words to write it in!  
> Ah well. If you do speak Yoruba or Haitian Creole and I have made a mistake, I do apologize! My best resources were online translators since I live far away from where either of those might have speakers for me to learn from. 
> 
> As always, let me know what you think!


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rivendell on midsummer's eve is a place full of light, laughter, intrigue and a delicious amount of jealousy.

There were many things in Middle Earth that never failed to annoy Thorin: Elves, people speaking about Erebor in tones of despair as if there were no hope for the return of its glory, Orcs, those who seemed to think piracy was this glorious, easy job with the only work being counting coins and fucking beautiful whores, empty barrels of ale, Elves, Dis when she went on one of her rants about him taking on too much responsibility to enjoy life, Elves, improper knot tying...It was a long list, a failing Thorin was well aware of.

He took offense too easily and was too slow to forgive. Still, he could normally work around his ill temper enough to pretend that he wasn't such a curmudgeon. That was often the only way to get the job done when dealing with the jolly people of port cities. They never responded well to ire.

Even being surrounded by Elves shouldn't be trying his patience to this extent. Yet, it was all Thorin could do to remain against the flimsy-feeling wall of the Hall of Fire as yet another fair-faced fence serenaded the audience with a tale of ancient heroism, his gaze fixed on Bella.

They had been here two evenings, with the intervening day spent in rest and recovery. Well, that's what the pirates had been doing. Their burglar had found a new spurt of energy and could be seen wandering the endless halls of Rivendell, often with some Elvish guide who spent more time admiring her chest than demonstrating the wonders of the airy architecture.

She had laughed off Dwalin's warning about the men's intentions saying no Elf would look twice at some insignificant Halfling from the Shire when they had seen women from all over Middle Earth. How the woman could be so ignorant of how heads turned wherever she walked, Thorin would never know. And yet, it only added to her beguiling appeal.

 _Not your affair_ , Thorin reminded himself. He needed to be concerned about Bella only as far as her welfare extended to achieving the goal they had set for themselves. If she wished to take one of these Elvish waifs to her bed, then it was no concern of his.

Thinking about Bella's bed was dangerous business. But it was a danger he courted much too often, sulking there in the shadows. Were he ever granted the honor of joining her there, Thorin would make sure she could never sleep there again without remembering him. Each night she laid down her head, she would be consumed with memories of him licking and nibbling his way down her throat, nudging aside that ridiculously low bodice. She would remember just how perfectly he had filled her. How she had writhed with pleasure, screaming his name, until he had bellowed his ecstasy to the heavens.

 _No business imagining her as anything other than a burglar,_ common sense spoke up, shattering the images. B _ella is beyond you and it is not worth the heartbreak to reach._

He had almost managed to convince himself of this when the story ended and Elrond stood.

"Musicians! Pick up your tools and give us some music. I say it is time for dancing!"

Everyone clapped and lept to their feet. Servants quickly cleared the hall of chairs and tables, leaving the floor open for dancing. Before Thorin could do more than blink, Bella was pulled to the center of the floor and into the arms of the raconteur.

Hands clenched at his sides, he watched her pick up her skirts in one hand and place the other hand on the man's shoulder. He committed to memory the Elf's face. After tonight, the young fool would learn better than to touch her again.

Song after song, Bella twirled about the polished stone, graceful and full of light. Even the dances she did not appear to know, she attempted to learn at the behest of her partners, saying something pithy each time she missed a step, resulting in laughter in all those who heard.

Torn between amazement and an emotion Thorin refused to put a name to so as not to appear petty or concerned, he pushed away from the wall and headed towards Balin. The older pirate watched the dancers with a whimsical smile and a tapping foot. Maybe he would have some ideas about how to pound common sense into Bella's head.

Thorin wasn't concerned about his burglar beyond her relevance to the quest, you understand. He was worried that she might become too comfortable here at Rivendell and leave them high and dry. Or perhaps she would encourage the wrong man and end up with a scandal on her hands. Neither would be productive or befitting a woman of her station.

"Thorin!" A soft hand caught his coat as he slipped around a gaggle of Elves. Bella beamed at him, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she caught her breath. Captivating cheer radiated from that gemstone gaze as she smiled at him. Her dress was a shade of green he had never seen before and it suited her complexion perfectly. "Come, dance with me."

"I don't dance," he said gruffly. Gently, he removed her hand from his chest.

"Is that so? I would have thought a man of your talents would be able to manage just about anything, even one short waltz." Bella wasn't deterred. "Please. It's such fun and you've sat out every dance so far."

True, he had turned down a fair number of rather forward Elvish maidens, but Thorin knew his limits. He had neither the desire nor the levity to dance in the house of the fences.

When he said nothing, Bella tilted her head and sighed. "Very well. I'll leave you to the critical important task of holding up the wall. I shall just have to resign myself to the disappointing reality that my evening will not include reaching the heavens in your arms."

His gaze snapped back to her face. She looked truly disappointed with just enough flirting in her tone that he knew she meant the words. Consent hovered on the tip of his tongue. It had been an age since he had let himself enjoy anything as simple as a dance. And it would keep Bella well away from the Elves and in his embrace...

"Mistress Baggins, leave your reluctant companion and join us." Two men appeared out of thin air behind Bella. She sent them a polite smile without looking away from Thorin.

Like a blow to his skull, painful reality reasserted itself. He should not even be considering this. Flirting with Bella on the ship was one thing, maybe they even needed a quick tumble between the sheets to disperse the tension between them, but Thorin could never kid himself into thinking this was anything else. This dance would mean a lot to her, maybe even more than she knew; he could see it in her eyes. And if he let himself relax, even slightly with her, she would be perceived as his weakness by the Elves. He could not allow that.

When would he learn? She was his burglar and had no sense of loyalty beyond herself. Bella was many things, but she was not a pirate.

"Go. They seem like they might actually enjoy your company this eve."

Bella recoiled before she blinked and smiled grimly. "Alright. I'll leave you be."

That was the last she said to him beyond answering important questions for their next days in Rivendell. Bella didn't seek him out. Only looked at him when it was polite to do so. Considered his words, responded, and then moved on. There were no more hidden smiles or friendly inquiries or books left at his door.

Thorin could perhaps have gotten past the lack of playful flirting. They were both professionals and had finally decided to act as such. However, he found he missed her company. Somehow, Bella had become his friend, and the lack of her companionship, witty commentary, and genuine enjoyment of life became a constant ache.

 

Their evening meal a few nights later took several hours since this was midsummer's eve, and the Elves celebrated it in style. Dish after sumptuous dish filled the long tables, and the wine was never ending. Dancers swayed between the tables, and all the denizens of Rivendell and visiting pirates crowded the halls. It was a merry gathering and even Thorin had found himself singing along to an old sea chanty. As the meal progressed, some of the pirates lost their inhibitions and more than one had disappeared into the shadows with some pretty maiden or man. In fact, he had lost track of his nephews. Kili had been eyeing one of the male musicians all night and Fili had seemed quite taken by a lass off a rum running ship.

Good for them. Maybe this evening wouldn't be terrible for everyone.

All of this celebration, and probably all of the wine, had put Thorin in a melancholy mood. Yet another summer passing away from Erebor and his people.

Even those in his life were but transient, slipping through his fingers before he could safely catch them.

"Who pissed in your grog?" Nori muttered after Thorin growled at him. Elrond had asked him and Gandalf, and for some unfathomable reason besides perhaps torture, Bella to meet him after the feast. Thorin had been so consumed with attempting to reason out the summons, that he had ignored dessert and snapped at any man who dared break the silence of his thoughts.

The glare Thorin favored the pirate with rolled right off. Nori simply shrugged. "If it's bothering you that much, go talk to her. She's just a female, mate."

"Why on earth would I be bothered by a female?"

"Because you did something stupid and now you need to apologize. That's how it works, see. If you don't, she will keep giving you the silent treatment and you'll piss one of us off enough that we'll tip you over the side of the ship," Nori said wisely. "And at this rate, my illustrious captain, we won't be waiting until we're back at sea to off you."

"You have a real knack for reassuring people."

"It's a talent I actively cultivate."

Thorin felt the edge of his frown quirk up, and had to work to maintain his countenance. Leave it to his men to make him feel better about life. What would he do without them?

Not that it meant he was willing to let go of his temper. Was Bella so enamored with the Elves that she had completely forgotten the rest of them? Elrond's son, Elrohir, had coaxed her into agreeing to declaim tonight. Every time one of the pirates had asked, she had demurred and changed the subject. Yet here she was, arguing with Dori as to which poem was more appropriate for the Hall of Fire.

_Prideful_ , a small voice in the back of his head spoke up. It sounded remarkably like his sister. Dis was forever reminding him that he was not his grandfather and as such had no reason to continue in his footsteps to the same doom.

Thorin knew he was proud. He was a descendant of Durin the Deathless, greatest pirate to ever come out of the North. Why shouldn't he honor that fact?

And if that wasn't good enough for some slip of a woman with tempting curves and a bewitching laugh, then he should waste no more time concerning himself with her.

"Thorin?" Bella appeared at his elbow as if summoned by his thoughts. "Are you ready?"

He stood without answering, an abrupt motion that made the chair shoot out from behind him, nearly knocking her over. Bella leapt to the side at the last minute, and ended up almost on top of Gloin.

Dwalin gave a great grunt of what might have been laughter had it come from a less wise man. When Thorin turned to look at him, however, the warrior had a face grave enough for a funeral.

"There you are, my dear." Balin tucked Bella's hand into the crook of his arm. "So tell me, what do you think of Rivendell?"

Stifling a growl, Thorin shoved the chair back in place and followed them. No matter what Gandalf said or Bella pleaded, they were leaving this place before noontide tomorrow.

They strode down a long bridge that spanned the water, and wound between houses with no walls. Despite his many long, pondering walks Thorin had taken since arriving, he had never been to this part of Rivendell before. The buildings seemed older here, with an air of deep contemplation about them. They passed mural after tapestry depicting scenes from history Thorin had no reference for, not even ancient tales. Even the floors told stories in muted reds and worn blues.

It was as if this place, the wooden slats and stone foundations, were weary of life. They had endured many sorrows and many joys, but something kept them from tumbling into simple decay.

Unsettled, Thorin pulled his wandering mind back to sense. How could buildings feel despair? And what sort of terrible hope would make something endure past all its years of life?

"Gentlemen, child mine." Gandalf nodded to them as they came to an airy room full of books and eclectic nick-knacks.

"Gandalf. Why are we here?"

"Because that map in your pocket is unintelligible to the likes of us. Luckily for us all, we are in the presence of someone who can read it." He made a seed-scattering gesture with his hand, and Thorin saw Elrond standing in an alcove, seemingly immersed in a book.

Eyes narrowing, Thorin made no move to retrieve the map from his jacket. "This map is the heritage of my people."

"Do not be dense about this, Thorin Oakenshield. That map will do your people no good unread." Storm clouds gathered in Gandalf's expression.

"I will not give this to anyone, let alone an Elf." Thorin would not budge on this. Trusting the Elves had only ever brought them misery and death. If they couldn't read the map, then they couldn't read the map. They would find another way to retake Erebor.

"Fortunately for us, I will." Bella extended a worn sheaf of parchment to Elrond who had joined their discussion. "I'm sorry, Thorin, but you have to move us forward or all hope is lost."

Damnation, she hadn't!

He patted his pockets, but the dinner jacket was empty. Hands snarling against his sides, he took two angry strides towards Bella. She met his gaze, no remorse or guilt in her expression.

She was kidding herself if she thought she did this for the good of the quest. All she had wanted to was to help the Elves. And he would be more than happy to show her just what pirates from the Lonely Isle did to traitors.

"Ah! A polyalphabetic cipher!" Elrond said, holding the map up to the moonlight. "The ink of the code is only visible under certain lights. Fate is smiling upon you, Thorin Oakenshield. For you have brought this to me at exactly the right time. Come, I have the Vigenere Table in my study."

"How did you get that map?" he snarled at Bella as Balin followed Gandalf and Elrond up a flight of stairs Thorin had not seen until now.

Her nose scrunched and she sighed. "When you refused to dance. Gandalf had just been complaining that our only hope lay in Elrond reading that map. Giving it up would have cost you more than Gandalf realized and if you two had come to blows over it...Well, this was the best solution I could think of. I'm sorry if I've offended."

"Think harder next time," he spat. Thorin turned on one heel, but not quickly enough to avoid glimpsing the hurt on Bella's face though it was quickly masked.

Thoughts spinning in every direction, he mounted the stairs. So now he had a woman in his company who believed the ends justified the means even at the cost of honor. And an old pirate lord who seemed willing to sacrifice all of their lives for his own goals. Had Bella's strange, endearing seduction attempt been merely a ploy to gain his favor and ear for the use of her godfather?

Thorin had no idea whom to trust any more. Perhaps they were right to give Elrond the map. Mahal knew they needed all the help they could get, but this quest was too important to let an Elf meddle with. It was too important to trust to a woman, to an old pirate lord, who had no idea of its far reaching impacts for the pirates.

How the fucking hells was he supposed to protect his men _and_ his people _and_ his heritage _and_ his people's honor _and_ now his cock's hind brain while still trusting to hope?

"A polyalphabetic cipher?" Bella asked. She slipped past Thorin and perched on the edge of a desk overflowing with books.

"A common thing to miss." Gandalf grinned. "Lord Elrond, however, is one of the last who so easily recognize it."

"It is a code using two alphabets to encrypt your message. Only someone with the proper table and the word used to originally encode the message can unlock it. Look."

With the map held up to the light, Elrond quickly copied down the letters onto a piece of vellum and showed them to Bella. Thorin and Gandalf moved closer as well.

VNRVQESKPRJLRGGVIEMIKYEBUHNYZHVCBVBFEJIZGNYMFHNKPAJMLVJLNZBUHFRAGOCXPGRZUCELHJLNAQITYVBZVRXJFVGKXBMLKICM

"Well I'm glad you can read that," Bella quipped.

Elrond laughed. "I can't actually. Not yet. We need the passcode. I'm guessing that from this, it would be a word between five and seven letters."

They all turned to stare at Thorin. He ground his teeth. This was the most progress they had made since leaving the Shire. Hells, this was the most progress they had ever fucking made.

"Thorin, no," Balin hissed as he opened his mouth.

Saying a silent prayer for forgiveness, Thorin said, "Durin."

Elrond nodded and pulled out another sheaf of parchment, this one covered in columns and rows of letters.

"You lot have got to be the most unimaginative folk I have ever met," their burglar muttered. "I've known you less than a month and even I could have figured that out."

Balin gave a reluctant chuckle. "I'm afraid you're right, lass. We are clever when it comes to jewels and strategies, but when confronted with puzzles such as these, we go for the answer most readily memorable."

"It was hidden in the invisible ink." Thorin felt compared to point out, oddly stung.

"Fair point, I suppose." Leaning forward to watch Elrond work, Bella's braid slipped over her shoulder and she spoke no more to him.

Thorin gnashed his teeth.

"It reads: 'Stand by the gray stone when the thrust knocks, and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the keyhole.'"

Uh.

What the fuck?

Balin didn't seem to comprehend the words anymore than Thorin did. Well, wasn't that just swell?

They were going to sail straight off the edge of the earth and no one would ever hear from them again. No more mention of the quest for Erebor. No more memory of the Durinson name. Just sailing to reach the ever distant horizon.

"Durin's Day..." Curious, Bella nudged his elbow, drawing his attention back from frustrated waters. "What is that?"

"It's the start of the Dwarven New Year when the first moon of autumn and the last sun of summer are in the sky together," Balin explained. "And that day is fast approaching. However, if we are standing in exactly the right spot at exactly the right time, we can find the back way into Erebor."

Sharp, dark eyes glanced at them. "So that is what you are attempting? Ousting Smaug from Erebor?" Elrond asked quietly.

"What of it?" Thorin snapped.

"There are some who would not deem it wise."

"Well those people can go f-"

"For all your help, we thank you." Gandalf swept a bow, shooting Thorin a warning glare.

Just in case he didn't get the message, Bella stomped on his foot.

Subtle, the Baggins family.

"Isabella, my dear, why don't you pick the pirates' brains and I shall see you all at breakfast?" Gandalf shooed them out of the room.

 

It was the last they saw of Gandalf for a long while. He sent them word to leave at first light and head back to the ship. The undercurrents between Gandalf and Elrond had come to fruition, and the old man could not get away.

So they snuck out of the breezy city of Rivendell with the first rays of dawn caressing their backs. Drowsy and stumbling, the pirates ascended the mountain path once more. Thorin stepped aside at the point where it narrowed into a tunnel and made sure everyone had managed the climb.

As he watched, he saw Bella pause, looking down at the cove. Her expression was unreadable, but he nevertheless had the impression of great, inner turmoil. Drawn forward, he stopped a few inched behind her, close enough to feel the heat radiating from her skin and smell her perfume. Being so close to Bella had him hard in instants despite his stern desire to cut all emotional ties to the woman.

All he had to do was reach out, spin her around, and claim her mouth. Pick her slight weight up, hold her against the stone edifice, and rip away those ridiculously flimsy linens she called undergarments. Then they could be joined utterly, and neither of them would ever feel whole again.

Three inches and she would be his so completely she would never think of anyone else. No more laughing with pansy Elves or silent treatments. Only passion and heat. Only Bella.

"Elrond invited me to stay," she murmured, unaware of his wild thoughts.

"Why didn't you?" His voice was rough and hard as he tried to rein in his emotions. Now was not the time to think with his cock. Every time they spoke, she seemed to slip further and further away. Why should he fight to keep her close when neither of them wanted him to try?

Bella considered him over her shoulder. "I don't know." She frowned as if contemplating some deep thought.

"Maybe you should."

A dark smile erased the odd expression. "I would hate to make your life that easy. You can keep trying to get rid of me, Thorin Oakenshield, but I gave my word that I would see this through to the end. Do us both a favor and pull your head out of your ass to face reality."

She stalked off.

Yes, Thorin, why do you want her to continue on again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had way too much fun writing jealous Thorin. He might be making a reappearance.  
> Also, ciphers are really neat. Maybe I'll restart passing notes in class. Because that's a great idea in college :D My friends would probably think I have finally fallen off my rocker.  
> As always, let me know what you think!  
> Is he being a complete ass to Bella or do they really just need couples counseling for communication?


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A huge thunderstorm hits the open seas and Bella develops a fear of heights.

"What were you going to recite?" Kili asked Isabella as they worked their way steadily through the underbrush. Only about another mile and they would be back at the ship. Everyone was on high alert for more Orcs, but the massacre the Elves had dealt them the other day seemed to have granted them a reprieve.

So it was with little incident that they passed the Troll hoard and found the beach again. Even their rowboats were still ashore so they would have no trouble returning to the rocking hell that was the ship.

Oh joy!

"Beg pardon?"

"Last night when the Elf asked you to declaim, before Gandalf called you away. What were you going to recite?"

"Oh." She blinked. The events after the request had knocked it clean from her memory. " _I Sit Beside the Fire and Think_."

Kili just looked at her. 

Laughing quietly, Isabella explained, "I think it was one of my father's creations. At any rate, I've never heard it outside of the Shire. Remind me sometime and I'll teach it to you."

"How about now?" He helped her board the rowboat. Thankfully, Kili and Isabella were followed by Fili, Nori and Gloin so she could keep avoiding Mr. Victim Complex for a while longer yet.

How she was going to manage ignoring the captain aboard his own ship, Isabella wasn't sure yet, but she would come up with something.

 _Maybe you should have stayed in Rivendell. She's not a pirate. Maybe they'll actually enjoy your company. Why are you doing this? We obviously don't want you._ Okay, that last one might have been a bit of an exaggeration, but it was there in the subtext of Thorin's remarks to her.

He had made it plain from day one that she didn't belong in their group no matter what Gandalf or anyone else said.

Well, fine. Isabella could take a hint.

Or at least she could if he would stop sending such confusing messages. He kissed her on the Trolls' ship. Then told her to stay in Rivendell. Then went out of his way to ask her thoughts on books and politics. He pulled opinions out of her that she didn't even know she had. Not many men thought it worth the breath it took for the question to find out what a woman thought about different topics.

He was roguishly charming and delightfully brooding. And completely, unfairly handsome.

So what was she to do? Keeping her distance hadn't seemed to help matters much. No, that wasn't entirely true. It had clarified things. Thorin saw her only as a tool to be used in his hunt for Erebor and a distraction in the meantime. He would flirt with her, talk with her, but only if it cost him nothing. The minute his pride entered the conversation, she was left at the wayside.

Shaking her head on a sigh, Isabella tried to ignore the sparkling pain that welled up inside her. What had she expected? This was real life, not some ridiculous romance story. She joined this quest to find cursed jewels, not a husband.

Gah! She didn't want to get married. Isabella loved her independence. How could she ask a man to give up his freedom if she wasn't willing to do the same.

So what if he was handsome? So what if she felt like flying each time he laughed? So what if she made a mental list of books to lend him so they could argue about the plot? So what if her chest ached with repressed tears now that he couldn't be bothered to say good morning to her?

"I'm sorry. What did you say?" She forced the words past her suddenly tight throat when she noticed Kili staring at her with an expectant air.

"Will you teach it to me now?"

"Of course." Maybe the solace she normally found in poetry would keep her mind from less pleasant matters.

Quickly scaling the rope, Isabella and the others set about making _The Craft_ ready to sail. Before the sun had firmly taken control of day, the pirate ship was once again out on open seas, a course set for the north.

When Kili deemed his rope knotting adequate, he nodded to Isabella. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Once again she was knee high to a cricket, sitting on the rug before the hearth with her head against her father's knee. Mother was sitting opposite them, a long piece of linen flowing over her lap as she embroidered, tapping her foot in time to the poem's meter.

It was a memory she took out only occasionally, holding it carefully in her hands because it was starting to fray. She could not longer recall the color of her mother's dress or the shape of her father's nose. Still, as she eased the corners of the memory flat, smoothing down the failing edges, she could hear the crackle of the fire and the rich timbre of her father's voice.

_I sit beside the fire and think,_  
_Of all that I have seen_  
_Of meadow-flowers and butterflies_  
_In the summers that have been;_

_Of yellow leaves and gossamer_  
_In the autumns that there were,_  
_With morning mist and silver sun_  
_and the wind upon my hair._

_I sit beside the fire and think_  
_Of how the world will be_  
_When winter comes without a spring_  
_That I shall never see._

_For still there are so many things_  
_That I have never seen:_  
_In every wood, in every spring_  
_There is a different green._

_I sit beside the fire and think_  
_Of people long ago_  
_And people who will see a world_  
_That I shall never know._

_But all the while I sit and think_  
_of times there were before,_  
_I listen for returning feet_  
_And voices at the door._

The words floated from her lips, lapping gently into the men's ears as they all stopped to listen.

Isabella bundled up her memory, tucking it away. She had so few crystal clear memories of her parents that each one was treated with the utmost reverence.

"What does it mean?" Ori asked quietly, hardly daring to break the peaceful atmosphere.

Isabella considered him for a moment before sighing. "I often asked my father that. He used to laugh and jostle my curls and tell me one day I'd understand. I remember being utterly distressed by this answer. It was an insult to my curiosity."

"And now?" Balin prodded.

"I...I think that it means you shouldn't be content with letting each day pass you by. That without adventure and curiosity, you never truly live." Rubbing her hand over her face, she gazed out over the water. "But I think it also means you must have a counter to your wildness. Adventures without a sense of home do not carry the same weight. They don't have the same sense of purpose and joy and...and relief. Family, home, even if it's just a hovel, those are why we adventure. Why we seek to find a better, richer life."

"Very wise, my dear." Dori patted her hand fondly.

Isabella gave him a slight smile. "As you say."

"Ma would appreciate that. Can you repeat it? Slowly this time." Kili leaned forward, listening intently as she obliged. She repeated it several more times before she had to excuse herself as the increasingly familiar roil of her stomach signaled the onset of sea sickness.

Isabella collapsed on her bunk, a bucket placed nearby just in case, and fell into a fitful doze.

When she finally struggled to consciousness, Isabella was convinced that she had somehow slipped into a new level of Hell. The world was moving even though she was positive she wasn't. It rolled up and down faster than a whore who was trying to get a large tip.

Struggling to her feet, she threw on the outfit she had found most suited the ever changing environment of a ship's deck: tight bodice with a split skirt to allow more freedom of movement for her legs. Since she hadn't bothered to light a candle before she collapsed, there was no light to see if she had fastened all of her bodice strings and hooks properly.

It took several painful bumps into random pieces of furniture and door frames before Isabella made it onto the deck. Within half a heartbeat, she was drenched and shivering.

The ship rode the raging sea, the hull going nearly straight up and down with each wave. Rain slashed into her skin on the wind that was colder than a witches' britches. Lightning illuminated the ship. Men scrambled on the riggings and slipped and slid across the wood, holding onto the ropes for dear life. Isabella hesitated in the door to her cabin, unsure of how she could help.

She could just make out Thorin's yells as he stood at the helm behind her. Even with the panic coursing through the pirates she could discern in their jerky movements and wild glances at the sky, he sounded calm and controlled. Each order was thought out and thorough.

Knowing full well she would probably get yelled at to go back to her cabin, Isabella cautiously made her way to the short staircase that led to the wheel deck. With both hands on the railing, she attempted to scale the stairs without being able to see said stairs.

"Captain!" She decided it was best to wait to draw Thorin's attention after he finished issuing his latest command. "Is there something I can do?"

He barely spared her a glance before turning his gaze back to the wild sea. "Go back to your cabin."

Isabella hesitated, her pride stung by the cold dismissal in his tone, before common sense kicked in. Thorin was many things, but a bad captain was not one of them. Isabella had absolutely no idea how to help sail a ship beyond what the lads had taught her in the past few weeks, and this was a storm of epic proportions. "Fine. Try not to get us all killed."

White teeth flashed in a fierce grin as Thorin hauled the wheel sharply to the right. "Yes, my lady."

Smiling despite herself, Isabella made to head back down the stairs. Once again, a bright flash of light showed her the other pirates, and something that made her heart stop.

Seven men were pulling on a rope to keep the main sail from failing. The ship bucked wildly on a particularly steep wave. It was motion none of them were expecting. The rope went taut and they all tumbled off the edge.

"NO!" She screamed.

"FILI!"

Heedless of the danger, she raced forward, dimly aware that Thorin was on her heels.

Dwalin beat them there. Muscles larger than her head bulged as he caught the rope and hauled. They all added their weight to the rope. Inch by excruciating inch, they pulled the rope up.

Some of them had to still be hanging on. The rope wouldn't be so heavy otherwise. But how many of them had survived? The fall had been sudden. The rope was soaked. They could have lost their grip. In a storm like this, they would never have a chance of being found or even swimming. Any wave would take them under. The undertow would be tumultuous. Drowned in the sea they loved so much.

A sob catching in her throat, Isabella heaved until the first head appeared over the railing. Deciding the men's brawn was of more use than hers, Isabella let go of the rope and scrambled forward to help each pirate back onto the deck.

"Thanks." Fili flashed a grin that was a wan impression of his normal charisma.

"I would say anytime, but please don't take me up on the offer."

The others heard her and laughed, shedding the terror of their close call. "Don't worry, lass. It's happened before." Gloin clapped her on the shoulder.

"You aren't terribly reassuring." She muttered as she hauled Dori back onto the ship. The man's feet had just met the solid wood with the ship rolled again.

A deafening crack of thunder swallowed Bella's screams as she tumbled off of the deck and towards the pitch black waters below.

The maw of the ocean gaped wider, ready to swallow her whole. Isabella twisted wildly, trying to find something, some purchase in the side, to grab onto as she plummeted.

Something. _Anything_. Please!

An abrupt wrench on her arm halted her downward progress, but didn't keep her from slamming into the side of the hull. Fear and pain battled for dominance as she was roughly hauled back up onto deck, blood filling her mouth.

Thorin's grip on her wrist was so tight, Isabella knew she was going to have bruises. Not that she cared. He could have taken off her whole arm and she would still have been grateful for saving her life.

"Th-thank you," Isabella gasped. Forcing air into and out of her lungs demanded all of her concentration. She couldn't believe she was alive.

"That was a close call, lassie." Balin regarded her fondly. "We were afraid we had lost you."

"The burglar's been lost since the day she left home," Thorin spat. He stood next to Dwalin, rubbing at his hands as if he could wipe away the feeling of her. "She's done nothing but slow us down since she joined."

The fire in his voice should have been enough to warm her right up, but instead Isabella's shivers grew. Inside she felt numb. Hollow.

 _Idiot._ She chastised herself as the men avoided her gaze and went back to work. The blackness of the storm swallowed them almost instantaneously. _This is what you get when you form attachments. Heartache and pain. Never should have gotten close to any of the men. Guess whose side they are going to pick? It sure as sunrise won't be yours._

Tears pressed against her eyelids as she stood on shaky feet. Her whole right side hurt from the yank, rope burns covered her hands, and one big bruise was forming on her front. But all she could really feel was the weight of Thorin's disapproval as he had stared at her slumped against the railing.

The smart thing to do was leave at the first chance, her word be damned. A modicum of respect and none of his trust, that was all Thorin was willing to give her. And while the men might have grown fond of her, she wasn't a pirate and they would follow their captain.

But...

Isabella sighed, shaking her head as she reached her cabin and collapsed in a chair. For a few days, she had felt like part of a group. That someone was glad to see her and interested to know what she thought about the world. It was a far cry from the frigid social encounters in wealthy parlors where each word was analyzed to be measured against a person's reputation.

For a while, she had felt _wanted_.

Damnit. Isabella wouldn't- _couldn't_ \- go back to being so alone. Her wide streak of well known independence had made her just shy of a social pariah. Oh, people talked to her and invited her to parties, but more out of respect for her family name and greed for her fortune than any real desire to see her.

It wasn't just that she had thought Thorin utterly delicious that made his rejection hurt so much. It was that she had thought, just maybe, she could be part of something bigger than herself again. A quest.

A family.

The storm abated slowly. By the time the clouds cleared, the position of the stars showed half of the night was gone. Isabella paced the small quarters of her room, not noticing the rolling of her stomach. Books lay discarded all about her with crumpled pieces of parchment. Isabella couldn't concentrate on any one thing.

When she could no longer hear thunder or panicked voices, she ventured back out onto the deck. The only figure she could see upright was Bofur. The rest of the crew was so exhausted they had simply found a flat piece of wood and fallen asleep.

Relief crashed through her when she saw Thorin snoozing next to his nephews. She wouldn't have to deal with him again tonight.

After making a quick stop in the galley for two mugs of hot tea, she made her way to Bofur, sneaking past the sleeping men without waking them.

"Thanks, lassie." Bofur gratefully accepted the warm cup. "Ah. That hits the spot."

"Anytime." She sipped at the tea, not tasting it. "Where are we?"

"Farther north than we had planned. That's about all I can tell you. The captain's the one who knows these waters best."

She grimaced. "North means we're approaching the Mountains."

The Mountains were a region of Middle Earth just off the coast of the Turks and Caicos. Named in what Isabella could only imagine was a fit of irony, the Montañas, the Mountains, were a network of underwater caves. It was treacherous sailing. Huge reefs of coral could easily puncture a ship's hull and the caves made for quickly changing sea conditions.

"Maybe they thought they were upside down mountains. Big pits in the ocean floor," Bofur theorized.

"Could be. It was the bloody Spanish who named them. Those nutters have to be the first to name everything."

"Right. And the Brits are so accommodating. You can keep the name as long as we get to subject you to slavery and exploit your lands," Bofur drawled.

Isabella laughed grimly after a moment's indignant pause. "Yes, I suppose you're right. Father never kept any slaves. All of our servants were bought and then freed instantly. The whole Shire's like that."

"You lot are the most easy-going, peaceful people I've ever heard of." He squinted at her. "What went wrong with you?"

"The province has been asking that for years. I just figure that no matter where your home is, someone has to protect it. Might as well be me. No one bothers the Shire for fear of Bella the thief and our rather fierce grocers. We call them the Rangers."

"The what?"

"Well, they have these huge fields and plantations to the north of the Shire. Wide open ranges. Hence the name. They come in and trade produce or game, but I'm pretty sure not a one of them is as innocent as a grocer. They have a bit of a ragged, no-nonsense look about them." Isabella shrugged. They were unfailingly polite so she never had any cause to bother them.

"After all of this is over, I'm going to come explore the Shire," Bofur said.

"You can stay as long as you like. I'll feed you. Best scones this side of England."

They fell silent for a while, watching the stars twinkle overhead. Isabella took several deep breaths, trying to instill the quiet peace of the night in her chaotic mind. The tension had just started to uncoil from her shoulders when Bofur spoke again.

"Thorin didn't mean it, Bella. You are part of us."

She didn't look at him. With a shrug, she tried to keep her voice level. "I'm not though, am I? I'm not male, not a pirate. I don't know how to fight or work as a member of the team. It's his decision to not give me the chance to learn. You know what the stupidest part is? I understand it. The urge to keep me at arm's length, I mean. It's what I do with everyone.

"People look at me and see my fortune. Or my misfortune in losing my parents so young. I can only imagine how much worse you all have it since losing Erebor. After a while you build walls just to keep your sanity. Do anything to keep the hurt from flaring so brightly. So I understand, I do. But closing yourself in like that, it never really solves the problem. You start obsessing. Start creating these elaborate fantasies that seem much more plausible than reality, just so you don't feel so alone." She shook her head. "Then again, it is Thorin's choice. I can hardly force him to accept or like me or give up on his dream. I will just deal with the consequences."

Bofur covered her clammy hand with his warm one. "He cares for you. We all do."

"As do I for all of you." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "For pirates, you're pretty good men."

"Shh. Don't go telling anyone that. We have a reputation to maintain."

Finally she smiled. "Ah, of course. You're dreadful, misogynistic scourges of the seas."

"Well, maybe not misogynistic. I'm completely comfortable acknowledging that you're better on the sneak than any of us and can pick a lock just as fast as Nori." He returned the smile. "Whatever you decide, Bella, I wish you the very best. I really do."

She patted his hand and turned back toward bed. Maybe she should try and get some sleep tonight. No doubt tomorrow would be just as adventured filled as today.

Halfway back to the cabin, Isabella caught a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye. Curious, she tiptoed to the other side and peered over.

Dark shapes moved beneath the water, not long enough to be sharks, and too large to be fish. They swarmed the ship. Isabella opened her mouth to call Bofur over when CRASH! CRUNCH!

The ship hit something enormous and suddenly stopped moving. Her feet slid out from under her with the sharp motion. She grabbed for a rope and managed to keep from falling over the railings again. Her feet dangled over the side as the ship remained beached at an angle.

With a roar, all of the men woke up. They leapt to their feet, weapons drawn. She had a split second view of dark shapes scaling the sides to engage with the men, surrounding them with more numbers than she could count, Bofur's wild face, Thorin's inscrutable one. Then a figure approached her, smiled a manic, mangled smile, and cut the rope she held.

Isabella was falling, falling, falling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long time between updates. Life has this funny habit of exploding in my face.  
> I know this isn't the correct placement of the poem, but it's one of my favorites of Tolkien's. Hope you like it too.  
> As always, let me know what you think! Next time we're off to Goblintown!


	11. Chatper Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin and the lads deal with Goblins  
> Isabella meets an interesting creature in the sea caves and plays a game of riddles.  
> Bit of a longer chapter since we have both Thorin and Isabella in it.

As a pirate there were certain things to which Thorin had become accustomed: lack of real privacy on the ship, a certain reputation that made people cringe when he walked past, scum thinking they can just walk onto his vessel and throw his burglar overboard....

That wasn't to say he enjoyed any of these realities. In fact, the latter rather pissed him off. Swinging his sword, Thorin cleaved a man in half and stalked forward on silent feet. He was going to make that piece of filth rue the day he was born. _After_ he pulled Bella back onto the ship.

Beneath the grumble of thunder and the violent screaming of the sea, he could just make out the sound of impact as a body hit the wild water. Yes, definitely _after_. In conditions such as these, she could be dragged beneath the ship and drowned, or smashed to bloody bits, or rapidly floated into the black nothingness, lost to the sea.

More and more figures swarmed up the sides of ship. Most of them moved oddly, and though they fought with brawn instead of strategy and finesse, they managed to overcome him and his men through sheer force of numbers.

Hands ripped and pulled at Thorin's soaked clothing, tearing Orcrist, as Elrond had named the sword, from his grasp. The fingers rasped with unsettling clamminess over his skin as he struggled against more men than he could count. The arms seemed to come out of the storm, attached to nothing more than blackness. Bile rose in his throat, but he refused to be defeated.

He _had_ to get free. Bella was in danger. His men were going down one by one.

Clawing at the wooden slats of the deck, Thorin managed to struggle loose. He had almost reached the railing when a sharp blow to the back of his head sent him sprawling. Bright lights danced before his eyes as strength drained from his limbs.

Lightning ignited the sky and Thorin caught a brief glimpse of their attackers. Flaky skin cracked in a lecherous grin as a man with a twitching eye stood over him. None of his compatriots wore more than a loincloth, not even the women, and all of them were covered in odd lumps or rashes.

The storm had thrown too far to the east. Thorin and his crew had found the leper colony of Middle Earth. The territorial lepers, or Goblins as they were disparagingly referred to, had apparently taken offense to this and decided to take his ship.

No one had any sense of hospitality these days.

Once again, hands clutched at him, hauling him to his feet. Thorin sternly told his stomach to hold its contents, but it was a real battle.

"To the king! He'll want to take their heads personally!" the nearest Goblin shrieked.

Mahal above, were they fucked.

 

 

" _Clap! Snap! the black crack!_

_Grip, grab! Pinch, nab!_

_And down, down to Goblin-town_

_You go, my lad_!"

Oh lovely. The lepers were musical.

Thorin growled low in his throat as they were rowed to shore, shackled to each other.

Now of all times, it would be helpful to have a burglar in their midst. He had no doubt Bella could pick these cuffs and have them free in a thrice. But she was nowhere in sight, possibly dead.

 _Because of you_. A quiet voice spoke up in the back of his mind. _You hurt her. Made her question her loyalties. Sent her walking across the deck when she should have been safe in her cabin. Or by your side._

Funny how his conscience sounded a lot like Bella, as if she were upbraiding him for mistreating one of the crew. Since when did he care so damn much what she thought? Or whether or not her eyes ignited in opalescent fire when she saw him? That she was by his side instead of safe in her cabin?

No answers came from the whipping wind or guttural song of the Goblins. Only a growing ache when he thought of Bella. If she were dead...

" _Swish, smack! Whip crack!_

_Batter and beat! Yammer and bleat!_

_Work, work! Nor dare to shirk,_

_While Goblins quaff, and Goblins laugh,_

_Round and round far underground_

_Below, my lad!_ "

"I think my ears are bleeding," Bofur moaned as they were roughly thrown out of the boat and prodded forward.

Wading through the cold water, Thorin began to think wishfully of deafness. Maybe a lightning bolt would fry some Goblins near him and render him temporarily hard of hearing.

He glanced hopefully at the sky, but the storm appeared to be clearing.

What else did he expect? Fate had rarely been so kind to him.

Suddenly the soft sand beneath his feet disappeared and Thorin plummeted into the sea. The shock of the frigid water on his face knocked all the air from his lungs. Instinctive panic rose when he couldn't draw breath.

However, not for nothing was Thorin one of the strongest swimmers in Middle Earth. He had been born and raised on these waters. Forcing calm into his limbs, he tried to peer through the sea.

If these were Goblins, then they had found the Mountains. Established a few generations ago as a leper colony, the Mountains comprised of small atolls over a network of sea caves. There had been speculation for years that the colony had gone extinct because no trace of them had been found on the atolls. However, it would seem that the wild rumors of cave-dwelling, water-breathing Goblins at least partially held water.

Hah. Held water. He was a riot.

Jerked above the water by a fist in his hair, Thorin came up roaring.

Pirates had strict ideas about who could touch them. It was one thing to tumble a willing dock lass or lad. It was quite another to let someone run their fingers through your hair as if they were beloved. To do so without permission was akin to being groped in a dark alley at knife point.

No one touched Thorin's hair and lived to tell the tale.

"Deep breaths!" The Goblin jeered and thrust his head back underwater.

 _You'll need deep breaths when I ram your head up your dirty asshole,_ Thorin snarled to himself as he began to swim.

Swimming with his hands bound was an exercise in patience. He could only use his feet to propel himself and even doing that was risky. If he mistimed his strokes, he kicked the man behind him in the head. So they all had to slow down and work as a team.

Rock scraped against his shoulders. A horrible feeling of the earth crashing down on his head came over him.

Trapped.

His lungs froze. Couldn't breathe.

No escape.

_The sky was a crystalline blue with perfect, fluffy clouds wafting slowly past. It was the sort of day to lay on your back and make shapes out of the clouds with the little ones. Looking up at such perfection, it was hard to reconcile the peace with the battle screaming all around him._

_Thorin could no longer see the sand of Moria's shore. It was completely covered with corpses. Faces frozen in rage, shock, and horror, their sightless eyes stared at him as he struggled to stand._

_A huge, broken, wooden beam lay across his legs and chest. The huge Orc leading the enemies had thrown it onto him in an effort to keep Thorin from interceding as he took on Thror and his brother Frerin._

_No matter how he struggled, he couldn't make the beam budge._

_Trapped. Trapped. Trapped._

_Helpless._

_Frerin let out a ragged howl, charging forward with his broken ax held across his chest. Thror came in from the other side, a ferocious snarl on his proud face. With growing horror, he was forced to watch as the huge Orc rounded on Thror._

_The Orc moved well for one so large, and he carried a wicked sword nearly as long as Thorin was tall. Scars marred his pale skin, giving Thorin hope that maybe he would make another mistake, this one fatal. Already, the pale Orc had killed more of his kindred than Thorin could count. Worse still, his wretched son paced along next to him, covered in strange piercings and tattoos. Azog and Bolg. The bane of his people for years._

_Muscles straining, Thorin bucked beneath the beam. Damn it! He had to get up!_

_A horrible, awful bellow sapped all of the strength from his limbs. Against his will, Thorin's gaze pivoted towards the fight._

_Blood pouring from the neck, his grandfather's body twitched its death throes. Thror's head, dangling by his silver hair from Azog's hand, was forever frozen in shocked denial._

_No._

_It wasn't possible._

_Thror was a giant in Thorin's mind. His grandfather could do anything. Conquer everything. When Thorin and Frerin had been little, Thror would read them a bedtime story and check each and every crevice for monsters. He would chuckle when they asked if there were any such creatures waiting there to terrorize them. "If there are, you're more than a match for them, my boys." He would slip a dagger beneath their pillows, to the dismay of their mother, and kiss them goodnight._

_Thror couldn't be dead. He just couldn't._

_For half a second, Thorin felt just like that little kid in need of reassurance. If Thror couldn't overcome the monsters, then how could Thorin?_

_Frerin let out another howl and charged Bolg._

_"Hold it together, Rin. Use your head," Thorin muttered, pushing futilely at the oaken beam again. His brother had a bad habit of being ruled by his emotions and drawn into making mistakes in a battle._

_Frerin was the first one into any fight and the last to come out. He laughed at every injury, saying that it was only by doing that you ever really lived. Mother often wondered how she had produced two brothers who were so dissimilar. Thorin, the brooding strategist, Frerin the wild, spontaneous one who always had a smile on his face._

_Frerin got a nice slice in across Bolg's shoulders, dancing away before the Orc could counterattack. Azog seemed content to watch for the moment, growling instructions to his son. The Orc and the pirate clashed again, though Bolg's movements were just a hair less fluid than before._

_Thorin managed to budge the beam enough to free his legs. Now he should have more leverage. He would be free sooner if he didn't have to keep twisting out of the way of the battle still roaring around him._

_The Mines of Moria had been filled with more Orcs than they had anticipated. Not that it deterred the pirates at all; their blood was singing and no pirate worth his salt backed down from a fight with an Orc. But there were so many dead....And after the massacre at Erebor, Thorin didn't believe they could afford more losses. What were they going to do if they couldn't take Moria? His people would be adrift with no home port._

_"HNNNNGGGHH!" With a massive effort, Thorin pushed free and scrambled to his feet. He had just reclaimed his sword when his world shattered._

_Bolg straightened from a pained crouch and launched himself forward with new energy. Frerin, never one to believe an opponent would fake since that was a dishonorable way to fight, was drawn into his trap. Before Frerin could gather his feet and find a new strategy, Bolg was on him._

_Two stabs straight to the heart. That was all it took to destroy Thorin's baby brother. All it took to extinguish one of the great sources of light and laughter in the world._

_Before he could process his actions, Thorin picked up the beam as if it were suddenly as light as a feather and smashed Azog's skull in with one blow. The huge Orc went down and did not get up._

_His son whirled on Thorin, pulling his blade from Frerin's body._

_Frerin fell slowly backwards as if Thorin was watching this in a dream. Blonde hair, matted with blood and sweat, swung around his face, the ghost of his last laugh forever etched there._

_Bolg's smug snarl disappeared as Thorin advanced upon him. Hard, calculation glimmered in his beady eyes. He swung at Thorin, backpedaling. Easily catching the blows on his impromptu wooden shield, Thorin could see nothing but Bolg._

_That bastard was going to die. Slowly. Painfully._

_Just before he caught him, Bolg turned tail and ran._

_"YOU FUCKING BASTARD!" Thorin bellowed. Dimly aware of his failing comrades, he lifted the beam high above his head and called, "Ke irora si mi. Gbogbo ọkunrin si mi!"_

_The pirates rallied, and they carried the day, but grief was too heavy and tears too many for it to be a victory. Thorin watched the men sob openly and curse at the sky._

_What were they going to do now? He had to find some solution. There was nothing else to be done._

_Thorin knew he should feel something. Grief, anger, pain. But he felt nothing. Hollow. Empty._

_He would have to tell Dis. Oh, Mahal. She might lose the baby in grief and shock. How was he going to tell her?_

_Thorin watched is brethren wander about aimlessly and shook himself. First things first. Find food and shelter for the night._

_Beyond that Thorin could see nothing but emptiness._

_He was trapped. Helpless._

Warm, humid air slapped at his face, jolting him from the memory. Normally he tried very hard not to think of the dark days after Erebor was taken. They had all lost so much.

Thror dead. Frerin dead. Thrain dead or taken prisoner. Dis, widowed and pregnant with Kili. All of them, homeless and desperate.

As he looked over his men as they scrambled onto the rocky bank, Thorin felt lucky. Lucky that he still had loyal men and friends. Lucky that some of them had survived. Many of them had managed to carve happiness out of the ill fortune Fate had handed them. Gloin, married and a father. Balin, a toymaker who delighted in making the children smile. Fili and Kili, so damned young and full of hope.

They were why he sought to return to Erebor. To have a home again meant there would be no more pain, no more sorrow. After all, adventures without a sense of home do not carry the same weight. They don't have the same sense of purpose and joy and...and relief. Family, home, even if it's just a hovel, those are why we adventure.

A reluctant smile curved his lips as the Goblins once again prodded them to move. He was in big trouble if he was quoting Isabella. Not that she wasn't eloquent, but Thorin rarely troubled to commit other people's words to memory.

_Wonderful realization there, Thorin. Just in time to thank her...oh, no wait. She's at the bottom of the fucking ocean. And where are you? In thrice damned chains._

Trapped. Helpless.

Again.

 

***

 

It was the cold that woke Isabella.

Shivering hard enough to snap her bones, she found herself laying on a rocky shore with the water gently licking up her body. It was so dark, she couldn't see the end of her nose.

A violent sneeze tore from her to echo in what she was assuming was a cave. It didn't sound like it was a large one, but since she had no sense of direction other than where the water was, it didn't matter if it was the size of a cathedral.

Another sneeze rocked her as she came carefully to her feet. The world felt unstable, as if she were still on the boat. Had she hit her head?

Hands running into what felt like a stone wall, Isabella sat carefully and probed the back of her head. Her fingers came away sticky with blood.

"Well at least that explains the nausea," she murmured to herself just to hear another sound beside that of the tide.

How long she sat there, fading in and out of consciousness, Isabella had no idea. Eventually the bitter taste coating her tongue faded and her stomach settled. If she didn't get warm soon, she ran the very real risk of hypothermia and slipping into shock from which she might never awaken.

With one hand against the rough wall as a guide, she crawled forward, unwilling to stand and worsen her headache. Sharp rocks dug into her knees and hand, smearing the shore with her blood.

Just when she was about to stop and come up with another plan, her left hand on the wall met only air. It appeared to be a tunnel. The sides of the tunnel glowed a a dim, eerie green, a light that seemed to be coming from the fungus growing on the rock.

"Hello?" she called tentatively. Her voice wandered a ways before echoing back to her.

Since no other option presented itself, Isabella crawled forward into the glowing tunnel.

What could possibly go wrong?

"What on earth?" Isabella's hand encountered something completely smooth and round. Before she lost feeling in her hands, she scooped up the object. Maybe it would be a pretty rock she could send to one of her young cousins. Assuming she made it out of here alive.

It was a ring. In the odd light it gleamed sullenly, but she was sure it was made of gold. It had that sort of weight to it.

"Well that is utterly unhelpful. Why couldn't you be a magnetic rock that showed me true north?"

The ring didn't reply.

Shaking her head, she slipped it into the secret pocket she had built into her bodice. It came in handy when trying to leave a party with stolen contraband.

Lovely. Now she was talking to inanimate objects. Then again, knowing which way was north probably wouldn't help her much since she didn't know where the boat was.

"Ship! Ship, Isabella. Thorin will have your head if you call it a boat again," she reminded herself.

"Yes, but what if he's dead? Won't matter much then," herself replied.

Nice to know she could count on herself for optimism and cheer.

_But what if?_

What if the pirates had been killed? She would be stranded on this leper colony with no way to get help. She would have to find a way off the island if only so she could bring the news to Dis. Fili had made her promise that if anything happened to them, she would tell their mother so she didn't spend her days wondering.

No, she couldn't think like that. The pirates were a hardy, resourceful bunch. They might have been taken, but they weren't dead. All she had to do was find her way to them and help them escape.

Easy enough, right?

Well....

It was either attempt to swim back out, though she didn't know where the exit was, with a concussion, or attempt to find another way out that involved dry land. Isabella wandered down the tunnel, taking every right turn that presented itself, figuring that this way, if she came to a dead end, it would be easy enough to find her way back to the place she had woken up.

Gradually the glowing fungus retreated and she once again plunged into darkness. Isabella didn't notice, shivering so hard she couldn't hear anything over the chattering of her teeth.

Stumbling forward, Isabella focused only on staying upright. Though she knew she was dangerously cold, all she could think of was how hot she felt. She wanted to rip the arms off of her gown, hike up her skirts and run back to the cool water. "F-f-f-ocus."

Being alone in the dark was starting to grate on her nerves. Half-convinced she was being watched by the very rocks, Isabella spoke to reassure herself. "J-just a f-f-few m-more st-steps."

Her numb toes suddenly slipped on slick rocks. Arms flailing through the air, she tried not to fall. She managed- barely, coming down hard on one knee. Hands scanning the ground, she found more water. "A lake? Or is this still technically the ocean?"

"Bless us and splash us, my precioussss! I guess it's a choice feast; at least a tasty morsel it'd make us, gollum!" A horrible, whiny voice slithered through the cave, ending in a harsh cough.

Isabella jumped and landed again on her knee. It went numb in a blaze of pain and a loud POP! "Hello?"

"Oooh, it speaks, my precious. It does!" A figure came into view, carrying a bulls eye lantern, its slit almost closed completely. Even still, after so long in the dark, the light burned Isabella's eyes.

The man was just about her height, though he walked bent, nearly on all fours. Skin paler than cream, his eyes seemed uncannily bright, dominating a face that was so thin, she could see each bone poking against the skin. He wore ragged pants that looked as if once, years and years ago, they had been the height of fashion. They must have been of good material to survive the wear and tear that had frayed its seams and stained its rich brown color. His torso was bare so Isabella could count each rib. Around his neck he wore a frayed paisley cravat that hung limply around his skinny neck.

"Who...Who are you?" Isabella tried to stop her stuttering, pulling the knife from her pocket and setting it in her lap. Just in case. Maybe Gandalf had been right to give her a weapon. Even though she didn't have much skill with it, its weight in her hand made her feel better.

"What is it? It is no Goblinses," the man muttered to himself, wandering around Isabella.

She pivoted on her behind to keep him insight. Her instincts leading her tongue, she focused on his cravat and nodded as politely as she could. "Good morning. My name is Lady Isabella Baggins of the Shire. I'm afraid I find myself rather lost and terrified. Would you be so kind as to tell me which way will get me out?"

The man cocked his head as if suddenly realizing she could see him. Then he blinked and sat down across from her, setting the lantern between them. It's slight warmth washed over her in a heavenly rush.

He drew himself up and gave her a half bow. "Hello. Smeagol- _Gollum_ \- at your service, my lady. Praps we should sit a while and talk, precious? Does the lady like a game of riddles? We loves games. Great fun!"

"Err...Yes. I do. L-like riddles, I mean. If I win, will you show me the way out?"

"Aye. And what do we get if we win, precious? Hmmm. Ah! I know! We gets to eat the delectable lady!" Smeagol- Gollum?- ran a bold gaze over her, licking his lips.

Had she taken a harder hit to the head than she first believed? Maybe she was having a fever dream, though she was certain this was one dream she never wished to have interpreted. Isabella took a deep breath. "Fair enough. Err...You first."

Gollum thought for a moment. His voice, beyond being hoarse and phlegmy, had an odd accent. He was British, at least originally, but he must have spent some time in the Mediterranean to acquire that particular bent to his vowels.

" _What has roots as nobody sees._

_Is taller than the trees, Up, up it goes,_

_And yet never grows?_ "

He clapped his hands, very pleased with himself, and leaned forward eagerly for her answer. He looked so excited, like a child on their birthday. Was he a shipwreck survivor? Maybe he had gone crazy in this place.

Thank goodness, she knew this one. Her cousin Drogo had been mightily fond of riddles, especially those about Nature. "A mountain?"

"Does it guess or does it knows?"

"A mountain. My turn." She took a deep breath.

" _Thirty white horses on a red hill,_

_First they champ,_

_Then they stamp,_

_Then they stand still._ "

It was the first riddle that came to mind. She thought it might be the first riddle she had ever learned as she was taught to count.

Gollum laughed eagerly. He must have been taught the same way. Yes, he was definitely English, but what on earth had happened to the poor soul?

"We used to have thirty teeth as well, precious. But now we only have six!" He gave her a hollow grin.

Isabella leaned as far back as she was capable. In the half-light from the lantern, Gollum looked like the specter of Death come to collect her soul.

The second riddle came just as quickly as the first.

" _Voiceless it cries,_

_Wingless flutters,_

_Toothless bites,_

_Mouthless mutters._ "

The pain from her now motionless right leg scattered her thoughts. What had been the first line again?

Isabella took a deep breath, refusing to be unnerved by the way Gollum sized up her bosom the way a wolf might size up a deer. Letting out the breath, she collected her wits. "Wind."

Gollum let out a grumble, but nodded. "Very clever, the lady is. But what is a Baggins, hmm?"

"That depends, I suppose, on what a Gollum is."

"Oh, no. Mustn't ask us personal questions. Very rude, precious. She's not one of them, but it is not her business, is it? Those S-ss--sss--Sicilians have spies everywhere in Mordor." He shuddered.

Isabella felt tears gathering at the corner of her eyes. The Sicilians worked closely with Mordor and took many honest British sailors captive, forcing them to work as galley slaves if they were lucky. The unlucky ones disappeared into the depths of Mordor's fleet, never to be seen from again.

"I'm not a spy, Gollum. Let us talk of happier things, hmm? My riddle, I think."

They went back and forth for a while, nearly stumping the other before inspiration would strike and the cycle began again. Then Gollum gave her a puzzle Isabella didn't have a clue how to solve.

" _This thing all things devours:_

_Birds, beasts, trees, flowers;_

_Gnaws iron, bites steel;_

_Grinds hard stones to meal;_

_Slays king, ruins town,_

_And beats high mountains down_."

Perhaps sensing her uncertainty, Gollum lost his polished veneer. Leaning forward, he extinguished the light and Isabella heard him stand. He began to pace around her. "Is it juicy? Is it crunchable?"

"Oh, hang it! Stop terrorizing me and give me some more time," she snapped. "Ah! Time! The answer is time."

He snarled. "Fine. But ask your last question."

"Errr..." Burst of agony danced up her leg until she was gritting her teeth on a scream. She had warmed up enough that feeling returned to her limbs, allowing her to enjoy each and every one of the cuts on her hands and feet. Fairly certain she had dislocated her knee, Isabella had no idea how she was going to get out of here without help.

"Ask us! Ask us!"

"Alright! Keep your hair on." Rubbing her cold hands on her chest, to warm up her skin, she felt an odd lump at the top of her bodice. "What do I have in my pocket?"

"That's not fair!" Gollum kicked over the lantern. "Three guesses! The lady must give us three guesses!"

"Just so." Isabella tried to sound confident. It had been more of a rhetorical question to herself, but he wanted to interpret it as a riddle, he was more than welcome to do so.

"Handses!"

She held up her palms that she had just whipped out of the pocket. "No."

Gollum paced and muttered for a minute before flinging, "KNIFE!" over his shoulder.

Glancing down to where it sat in her lap, Isabella told him no, feeling another spike of pity for the man. How long had he been down here with no one but himself for company?

Is this what she would become if she kept exiling herself to a solitary life? Not just spinsterhood- she refused to marry until she met a man she could respect and trust- but only reluctantly going to social obligations?

Life as a thief might have given her financial independence, but it had also taught her that people lie with almost every breath they take. They cheat. Smiles and polite words covered dark, deep cruelties. How could she ever know someone well enough to trust, given that she had seen some of the worst humanity had to offer? Did she trust her heart to friendship and love even knowing just how big of a risk it was?

"Last guess." Isabella said gently.

The man rocked back and forward on the edge of the lake, hissing and talking to himself.

She decided not to push and instead set about binding her knee with scraps from her dress. At the rate she was ruining her clothes, Isabella was going to be running around _Aulë's Craft_ in nothing but her skin.

Which, she mused, might be entertaining for a moment, just to see Thorin's eyes pop out of his head. Maybe she could make Ori faint.

With a hiss of discomfort, she bound her oddly angled knee, a surprisingly difficult task in the dark. If she made it out of here, she promised herself, she was going to learn the rudiments of medicine and sword fighting.

"String! Or nothing." The last word came out in a sinister hiss that made Isabella's skin crawl. "Wrong on both accounts, I'm afraid. Well, nothing for it now. If you will just show me the way out, I'll be out of your hair." With the help of a nearby rock, Isabella climbed to her feet, swaying unsteadily on her bum knee.

"Must we?"

"You promised," she said, instincts suddenly bleating in fear.

"Did we, precious? _Did we_? Maybe the Bagginses lady is lying. What does she have in her pockets?"

"None of your business." Slowly Isabella began tiptoeing backwards in case he rushed her.

There was a clink of stone on metal and the lantern flared back to life. "Cross, she is. We can't rush off. Must collect a few useful things first, yes precious."

"Oh. Of course. Please, I'll wait." Gollum disappeared without a word, leaving behind only the sound of his splashes as he took to the water.

Was there an island of some sort he was headed for? She wondered, trying to stay on her feet. Isabella didn't truly expect him to return, but she lost nothing by waiting. After all, she had no idea how to get out of here. At least he had left the lantern so she could watch for his approach.

A screech, as horrible as a mother's when her baby is ripped from her arms, exploded in the cave. Isabella jumped, heart in her throat, and landed with a painful thump.

"IT'S LOST, PRECIOUS! WE LOST IT!"

"Lost what?" Isabella called. "What have you lost?"

"Our birthday present! It's gone! Gone! Lost!"

He sounded so desolate, that Isabella couldn't help but say, "can I help you look for it?"

"Not its business!" Then his voice changed and the bottom fell out of Isabella's stomach. "What does it have in its pocketses? THIEF!"

Heart hammering so hard she didn't even feel the pain in her knee as she limped forward, Isabella moved as quickly as she was able.

Because as sure as she knew escape was hopeless, she felt in her very bones that Gollum was coming to kill her.

"THIEF!" Gollum shot forward from the water and launched himself on top of her.

As they went down, Isabella screamed loudly enough to make Gollum shriek in pain, before his long, clammy fingers closed around her throat and began to squeeze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Both Thorin and Isabella in this one.
> 
> And yes, I went back to the book canon. Azog dies at the Battle of Azanulbizar and Bolg takes over the Orcs in Gundabad. So sue me. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this Gollum. Bonus points if you can tell which real life pirate/galley slave I based him off of. It's a bit of an obscure reference though. 
> 
> As always, let me know what you think or would like to see next!


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So here is their escape from Goblin Town and Riddles in the Dark. I thought I had already posted this, before the Orc battle. Sorry for the mix up!

Thorin stared at the Goblin King, trying to think of words strong enough to voice his disgust at the man. He wasn't sure any language contained them. 

Sitting on a throne that appeared to be made out of bones and sea shells, the man had expanded to fit his surroundings. His girth was enormous; he was nearly as wide as he was tall and he towered over Thorin by several inches. Scabs covered most of his sweaty chest and yellow fungus grew in the folds of his fat. The stench coming off of him made Thorin gag. 

That wasn't the worst of it though. The man sat atop an huge chamber pot that looked as if it hadn't been emptied since before Thorin's birth. Each time the Goblin shifted in his seat, the filth emitted a belch of odor that made bile flood his tongue. 

"Hehlck." A dry heave tore through him before Thorin controlled himself. Swallowing hard, he tried to focus on something else. Anything else. 

Gazing around wasn't much better. Faces peered at them from up and down the cave walls from carved perches and rickety shelters. There were more Goblins than he had anticipated. Just how many lepers had started this colony? 

"Welcome to Goblin town, my delicious malcontents," the Goblin King boomed. 

"Next time we'll opt for the sail-by tour," Fili muttered thickly. 

"What's that, eh? Talking behind my back?" Watery, yellow eyes peered at them. "Who are these miserable persons?" 

A Goblin near Dori answered. "Pirates! We found them sheltering on our Front Porch." 

Some front porch. Did they consider the whole ocean their property? 

"SPIES!" the Great Goblin howled. A commotion went up around the cave. "Murders and friends of Elves most likely!" 

Great, they were paranoid. This could only go well. Thorin stepped out, ahead of his men. "Thorin, at your service. We did not mean to intrude, but the storm blew us off course." 

"A likely story! What were you doing up this way at all? The Mountains are no place for a pirate lord. Yes, I know all about you, Thorin Oakenshield. King Under the Mountain, they call you. Only...you don't really have a mountain, do you?" 

Wonderful visions of killing the man filled his head. While it would be satisfying to strangle him, Thorin didn't want to touch the fat oaf with a ten foot pole. No, best to shoot him from a distance. Many times. 

"We were heading to visit our relatives, our nephews and nieces, and first, second and third cousins of ours," Bofur piped up. "You see we were on this path, well it wasn't so much a path as a vague heading, or maybe more like a star we were following. At any rate, there we were on this path, heading, star course, when-" 

"ENOUGH!" The Great Goblin started to chuckle, making his three chins wobble and bounce. "If you won't tell me the truth, I'll wring it out of you! Bring up the bone breaker! Start with the youngest." 

"Touch my men and I will flay you alive," Thorin snapped. "We told you the truth." 

"Ah, but perhaps I don't like your truth. I do, however, like your head. I know someone who will pay a pretty price for it." A grin that caused his lips to crack. Yellow pus flowed down his chins. Instead of being bothered by this, the Great Goblin stuck his finger in the effluvia and licked it. 

Ugh. There was something Thorin would never unsee. 

"Perhaps you know of what I mean. A fatherless Orc, dying for revenge." 

"Bolg," Thorin spat. "I didn't think filth like you would stoop so low as to associate with Mordor." 

A thick laugh. "There is no level I wouldn't reach to see your line and those like you wiped out. You left us here to rot. No help. No mercy. For all I care, you can become food for the crows." 

"We'll be sure to spread the word of your hospitality," Dwalin growled. "After we walk out over your corpses." 

Diplomatic since day one, Dwalin. 

Not that Thorin could find fault in his sentiment. 

Still, while they were in chains, that wasn't exactly the tactic to use. "Maybe we could reach an agreement-" He tried again. 

"KILL THEM ALL!" 

That was another option, sure. 

Goblin threw ropes down the walls, dropping down, eager for their blood. Thorin drew his men into a circle. Though they were chained, Thorin thought they might be able to make a fight of it. 

BOOOOOOOM! 

The ground rushed up and slammed into Thorin's back hard enough to rattle him. Blinking away a bright light, he struggled to react to this new threat. 

"Quickly! Up! Fight!" a familiar voice called. 

Thorin might be inclined to forgive Gandalf his duplicity with the Elves for having such great timing. "Up, men!" He pulled on the chains as he scrambled to his feet. 

Gandalf pulled a lock kit from his robes and set to work on Thorin's hands. The Goblins were beginning to stir when half of the men were released. Then there was no more time to get free. 

Shoving the men towards Gandalf, Thorin and those unbound, collected their weapons from where the Goblins had dropped them on the floor. 

It was a desperate race out of the cave. They ran over rickety bridges and slipped over loose sand. At every turn, more Goblins appeared, armed to the teeth and lusting for blood. 

None of the men held back. Bombur simply trampled three on his way to a staircase. The unlucky Goblins' skulls burst with a sickening crunch. Dwalin was less prosaic about it- bashing heads together with his massive fists. 

It was all Thorin could do to keep them moving, so eager were the pirates for a fight. They had spent too long running from people to easily pass up such a golden opportunity for violence. 

Gandalf led them through the network of caves, stopping only once to alter their direction. The pause, while not long, was more than sufficient for the Goblins to catch them. 

Stuck on a bridge over a deep pool, the pirates came to a shuddering halt. The Goblin King stood on the opposite bank, a smug glint in his small eyes. "I'm all a quiver to see what your next move will be. Sure you don't want to stay a while and entertain us?" 

"Fucking abomination." Thorin finally found words strong enough. 

Gandalf considered the Great Goblin for a long moment, disgust written in every wrinkle. He said nothing, but Thorin found eloquence in his answer nonetheless. 

In one blurred motion, Gandalf drew his sword, took half a step forward, and disemboweled the Goblin. 

The look of shock on his distorted face was so great it was almost comical. The huge, lumbering body stood still for a moment before slipping sideways into the water. 

"Couldn't have sliced him over the pool?" Thorin asked, stepping over foul entrails. 

"You have been spending too much time with my goddaughter if you're starting to critique my results for lack of style," Gandalf replied calmly. 

They took advantage of the Goblins' astonishment and bolted. 

"Where is Bella?" 

"The Goblins threw her off the ship. We haven't seen her since we were captured," Bofur answered, anxiety clear in his voice. 

Thorin returned Gandalf's glare. He didn't need the old man adding to his guilt. His panic for Bella had already reached catastrophic proportions. As soon as his men were clear, Thorin was heading right back into the caves to find her. 

"I really am rather fond of her, despite what your feelings seem to be on the matter. I would take it as a personal favor if you stopped losing her." 

"Noted. Come on, move it men!" Thorin counted heads as they ran. Everyone accounted for, except Bella. 

As if in answer to his mental count, magnified by the hard rock, a scream ripped through the stagnant, humid air. Definitely feminine, it sounded like Bella. And she sounded terrified. 

"Go! I'll meet you all outside!" Thorin bellowed as the last echoes died. 

"Don't be ridiculous, you'll get lost." Gandalf gave him a rough shove on his shoulders. "We figure out where we are, and then we make a plan to get Bella." 

Thorin hesitated. It made sense, but each and every instinct screamed that he and he alone should be the one responsible for taking care of Bella. 

"Fine. Then we hurry." 

"What do you think we're doing? Taking a holiday?" Nori rolled his eyes. 

Half a mile later, blessed daylight caressed their faces. They were on the sandy shore of one of the atolls. A path wound up the beach to firmer ground and lush vegetation. 

"Kili, climb up and see where the ship is. The rest of you, get those chains off. We move in five. Gandalf, what was that bloody explosion back there?" Thorin ordered. 

"Smoke bomb. Gun power with a few adjustments made to the recipe. You're welcome." 

Biting back a caustic reply, Thorin turned to watch the opening of the cave. Kili reported their ship was several leagues away to the south. He had just jogged back to the group when a figure appeared in the mouth of the cave. 

Limping and snarling, the Goblin was much smaller than the others they had fought. Thorin drew his sword and leapt forward. 

His blade kissed flesh just as the creature came into the sunlight and he realized it was no Goblin after all. 

"Going to kill me, Thorin?" Bella asked before her legs gave out and she collapsed. 

 

******

 

Cold fingers closed around her throat and dirt clogged her open mouth. Isabella screamed again through the mud and clawed at Gollum's arms. He growled and hissed in reply, clinging tighter. 

"Thief! Evil Bagginses!" 

Gathering her good knee beneath her, Isabella bucked against her attacker's slight weight. He went flying off and smashed into the wall. 

Isabella crawled forward, coughing violently. 

"Get out. Get out. Get out," she chanted, trying not to scream each time her weight fell on her dislocated knee. 

Gollum let out another shriek. Sounds of moving rock accompanied his anger before suddenly it went silent behind her. 

Scrambling to her feet, Isabella supported herself against the wall and limped away as quickly as she could. She pulled the knife from her pocket. She didn't want to kill Gollum, but she wouldn't allow herself to be taken. There were very few things Isabella feared in this world and the two greatest were rape and heartbreak. 

There was probably some irony there, but she was too busy to consider it. 

"Where is it? Thief and riddle maker? You stole our precious, our birthday present." The voice seemed to come from all around her. 

Had he gotten ahead somehow? Maybe she could trick him into showing her the way out. 

Trying to move with as little noise as possible, Isabella inched forward, eyes straining in the dark. 

"THIEF!" He screamed in her ear. 

Whirling, off balance, she slashed wildly at nothingness. A dark chuckle was her only response and the feeling of his presence retreated. 

"Bastard.," she muttered sullenly. Pain often made her testy, and at the moment irritation was more comfortable than terror. 

_Use your head, Isabella. You've been in worse situations._

Perhaps. There was that one time she was nearly caught rummaging through Lord Saruman's personal papers. Gandalf had been visiting when the pirate lord dropped in on her parents. She could remember he didn't seem too impressed with the Shire or their brand of hospitality. So intrigued had she been by his haughty manner, that she had infiltrated the study he was borrowing from her father to rifle through his papers. At the very curious age of thirteen (still in the irresponsible tweens as the Hobbits called that age), she had been convinced Saruman was hiding some Very Important Secrets to be so smug. 

Just as she picked the lock on his chest, the door to the study had opened. Flinging the lock back into place, Isabella had scrambled for cover. She ended up climbing the bookcase to hang from the chandelier. Swinging there silently for nearly an hour while Saruman answered correspondence, praying that he didn't look up, had been one of the longest hours of her life. 

It had been so dusty up on the chandelier that she had been forced to hold back a flood of sneezes for fear that she might let go with the force of it. When Saruman had finally left, Isabella could hardly feel her arms. Then, to add icing to her just desserts for being so nosy, Mother had asked her help Hattie bring out the good silver from the attic. Barely able to lift her arms above the elbow, Isabella had been no help at all, sneezing fitfully up in the attic until Hattie sent her to bed with a mouthful of castor oil. 

When Mother finally got the story out of her, a few days later, she had laughed so hard it brought Father in from the gardens, certain someone was attacking the manor. This time it wasn't sore arms, but a sore leg. The memory helped bolster Isabella's spirits though she knew she was pushing her body's limit. Too long in the cold water, too much blood lost. 

Deciding she might as well know what all the fuss was about, Isabella pulled the ring from her pocket and tried to peer at it. It seemed to be a simple golden ring. There was no inscription, no marks of anytime. If he were so attached to this birthday present of his, leaving it lying about in the middle of a tunnel hardly seemed like the best way to find peace of mind. 

Maybe he thought she had something else? 

Slipping the ring on her finger so she wouldn't lose it, Isabella started hobbling forward again. 

This tunnel opened into a wider tunnel that was lined with a fungus that glowed purple this time. Convinced she was in some sort of ridiculous nightmare, Isabella went back down on her hands and knees. There was no bloody way she was touching the purple slime. 

"Bagginses...Bagginses..." Gollum cooed. He crept down the rocky path eyes scanning as if he couldn't see her crouched on the ground. 

Was he playing a game? Draw out her confidence and then pounce when she least expected it? 

Whatever his plan was, Isabella had no choice but to go forward. 

Now dragging her right leg behind her, its strength spent, Isabella came closer and closer to Gollum, the knife clutched tightly in one hand. 

He didn't look at her. Not even when she eased past his feet. In fact, it was if he couldn't see her at all. 

The implications of that buzzed through her mind, but didn't stick. It was all she could do to keep moving. 

"Bagginses is tricksy, precious. She already knows the way out. Just wanted to distracts us to steal the precious!" Gollum concluded a moment later. "Mustn't let her escape, gollum!" 

He turned and bolted for the exit. 

Isabella looked after him in horror. How was she supposed to follow him at that speed? 

She glanced at the purple moss. It was a choice between escape and her fastidious nature. Swallowing hard, Isabella pressed a hand to the wall, trying not to whimper at its slick, spongy texture, lamely gained her feet, and hobbled forward. 

"One legged pirate lass," she giggled, half out of her mind with exhaustion and terror. No wonder most pirates saw losing a leg as a death sentence. It was damned inconvenient. Then again, she realized it was a testament to those one-legged seafarers who pressed on despite the odds and the pain. 

Maybe she could convince Ori to carve her a new leg. He was quite crafty with his hands. It would probably have hearts and unicorns carved into it, since that was how he viewed women, but it would be sturdy. 

The world narrowed to the step in front of her feet. Though it was probably no longer than a mile or so to the exit, Isabella felt as if it was infinite. By the time she realized her vision was no longer purple, but colored a glorious gold, she had nearly walked straight into Gollum who stood just inside of the cave mouth. 

He positioned himself exactly in the center of the exit. Getting past him would be near impossible. 

Isabella glanced down at the ring still on her finger. Maybe if she tossed it back into the cave he would go after it instead of her. 

One look at the murderous look on his face, however, told her that Gollum would kill first and search later. 

She could kill him. If he couldn't see her, for whatever reason, it would be relatively quick and painless. 

But how could she kill someone she understood? He must have survived years of loneliness down here with no hope that anyone would ever give a damn and come looking for him. 

Death might be its own sort of mercy to Gollum, but surely he deserved another chance. 

Mind made up, she sheathed the dagger and took a deep breath to gather her strength. With a limping, running start, she charged Gollum. She knocked him down and kept moving over the sound of his howl of surprise. 

"BAGGINSES! THIEF! WE HATES IT FOREVER! CURSE YOU!" 

Tears flowing freely now, Isabella at last came to the mouth of the cave. Sunlight licked her toes as she bent over to catch her breath. She slipped the ring off, back into her pocket. If Gollum couldn't see her, she didn't want to risk friendlier eyes overlooking her when she really needed help. 

Knowing she was still in danger, Isabella pushed on, nearly sobbing with relief when she felt the warmth of the sun on her face. Then all bliss faded as cold metal kissed her throat. 

Thorin pressed his sword to her neck, a look of pure rage on his face. 

"Going to kill me, Thorin?" she asked in a dead voice. Isabella almost welcomed the option. Anything to end the pain spiraling through her. 

Disbelief flashed across his handsome face. It was the last thing she saw before her legs gave out and she fell face forward into the mud. 

Or rather she could have if strong arms didn't grab her around the waist and swing her up and into Thorin's arms. How he managed to do that without impaling her on the sword, she never did find out. 

"You came back." 

"Don't sound so excited about it," she murmured. She was so very tired. Not wanting to disassemble his motives, she snuggled closer to his heat, laying her head down on his chest. Warmth flooded her. Her eyelids were heavy, leaden weights. 

"Why? You have talked of nothing but your comfortable home since the day you left." 

All of her injuries blended into one solid ache that sought to crush her. She couldn't stay conscious much longer, but for Thorin, she would try. 

"You're right. I miss my home. I miss it so much it's a physical ache. That's where my memories of my parents and golden childhood are strongest. That's where my books are. My garden. My silk sheets and full kitchen. And that's why I won't leave you all. Because you don't have a home. It was taken from you. Not just the physical hallways and material things, but your memories and camaraderie. I know some of you don't care for me. That's fine. You're entitled to your opinion, but that won't stop me from helping you. I will do anything I can to get your home back." 

Thorin's fingers brushed her throat. "Who did this to you, Bella?" 

Damn it. Here she was waxing eloquent and he didn't hear a word she said. Shaking her head, Bella gave up. "Just walk, you idiot. We aren't safe here." 

"Oh good. I was beginning to think bossy Bella had taken a holiday. Nice to see she's back in town." He shifted her gently in his arms and nodded to his men. 

Though Thorin was careful, just about every part of Isabella was bruised. When he adjusted to climb a steep sand bank, his sharp belt buckle found a particularly painful scrape and Bella collapsed willingly into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very very much to the kind reader who noticed we were missing a section. It would be rather ironic to not have the bit with the Ring!


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Out of the frying pan and into the fire! The Orcs have them surrounded.

A soft, warm weight curled into Thorin's side as he sat with his back against the stern. Bella lay with her head against his chest, an arm half across his torso. Curls tickled his throat with each breath she took. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, holding her close while the other held open a book. 

As soon as they reached the ship, Oin had started to treat Isabella's wounds. She woke up halfway through, and though she refused to answer how she accumulated such a wide variety of painful injuries, she seared the air blue with her curses as he guided her knee back into place. 

Holding her close to keep her still, Thorin hadn't been able to help ease her pain, so he was reduced to murmuring soft endearments in her ear as she tried to follow Oin's directions not to move. 

As soon as the physician was done, she had hopped up on one foot, and using Fili as a crutch, headed directly to her cabin for a wash. She had mentioned something about purple slime and glowing things that made no sense to any of them but was very important to her. 

Thorin had waited until Gandalf reported she was resting comfortably before ordering his own men to rest. It was approaching the noon hour and they had been up for nearly a full day. Now that they had their course set again, there was no reason to have them on deck. 

He had stood at the helm for a while, trying to read or chart the next step of the quest before giving it up as a lost cause. He couldn't concentrate on anything. 

So, giving in to temptation, he wandered down to the first mate's cabins, telling himself with each step to turn back. Instead he found himself next to Bella's bed. Bella slept completely abandoned to the moment. Sheets in a knot around her legs, arms splayed wide, hair in a halo around her head. 

It took several tense moments to untangle her from the sheets without bumping her swollen knee, sliced hands, or any other part of her body that might cause her pain.

Picking her up, Thorin had tucked her head under his chin, snagged a blanket, and carried her back onto the deck. 

Now, enjoying the heat of the last light of the sun and the woman in his arms, Thorin could finally get back to the latest book Isabella had lent him. How she had managed to secret these many novels onto the deck with only one small pack of supplies was a mystery for the ages. 

This particular author was one with which Thorin could identify. "'I should like to know which is worse: to be ravished a hundred times by pirates and have a buttock cut off, and run the gauntlet of the Bulgarians, and be flogged and hanged in an auto-da-fe, and be dissected, and to have to row in a galley- in short, to undergo all the miseries we have each of us suffered- or simply to sit here and do nothing?'" 

"'That is a hard question,'" Bella murmured. "I thought you might like Voltaire." 

Thorin tucked the book into his vest and leaned his head back against the worn wood. "The destruction of total optimism suits my worldview." 

She snorted and sat up. "How long have I been asleep?" 

"Most of the day." 

"Ah." Carefully, she probed at her swollen neck and red knee. "Well, this is dashed inconvenient." 

"Bella, what happened?" he asked again. Each time he saw the black smudges on the creamy flesh of her throat, the world went red. If he ever caught the bastard who had laid hands on Bella, Thorin was going to live up to his reputation as a savage. 

"I learned I'm terrible at riddles." 

"How is that possible when you speak in them constantly?" 

A sideways, glittering glance was his only answer. 

There was no doubting she was related to Gandalf. Between the two of them, the truth was tied in knots and covered with cryptic advice. 

"Thorin." She waited until he looked at her before she continued. "There is something I need to say to you." 

"Ships!" Dwalin cried from the crow's nest. "Ten of them. All flying the flag of Gundabad!" 

"Fucking hell!" Thorin shot to his feet. Could they not catch a break?

Bella grumbled something under her breath about terrible timing, but with Orcs advancing on them, it was going to have to wait. 

The yell brought everyone onto deck, Dori nagging Ori to tuck in his shirt. The men assessed the surrounding ships and dove for their weapons. 

"Bella..." 

"Yes, yes. Go back to my cabin. I know nothing of combat at sea. Only, one problem. I don't think I'm going to be walking very far." She gestured to her knee. 

"Stay behind me, then," he said sharply. Thorin would risk no harm coming to her. 

They watched in tense silence as the ten ships coordinated their containment. The lead ship kept her course to intercept. As it drew closer, Thorin could make out men crawling on the deck, dressed in the brown leathers of Mordor Orcs. 

But it was the figure at the wheel who had Thorin drawing his sword without any conscious decision to do so. 

Face studded with metal and stuck in a perpetual sneer, Bolg threw him a snide salute. "Prepare to be boarded, pirate filth." 

Always a charmer, that one. 

"There are too many." Gandalf strode over to them. "We have to cut their numbers or we don't stand a chance." 

"Don't suppose you have any more of that gunpowder handy?" he asked without taking his eyes off Bolg. 

"The shoals. Climb the shoals." 

"Are you mad? We'll get stuck!" 

The sandbars, common to these shallow waters, had turned into a graveyard for ships whose captains had been too foolhardy or too ignorant to avoid them. 

"Perhaps. But perhaps we make it through and they get stuck. If you have a better plan, I am willing to hear it." 

One of these days, Thorin was going to remind Gandalf who precisely was captain of this ship. 

Even better, one of these days, they were going to stand and fight instead of running from the Orcs. 

But Thorin knew hopeless odds when he saw them. Now was not the time to confront Bolg unless he wished to end up a bloated corpse floating on the uncaring waters. "Heave to port, lads! All hands to the riggings! Let's make this old lady fly!" 

Bella braced herself against the stern as he hauled the wheel around. Without having to be asked, she kept up a running commentary on the state of their foes. She was damned good at it. Always spacing her observations between his orders to the crew and keeping it succinct. 

The ships directly ahead of them still hadn't corrected course to cut them off. The Orcs were probably thinking only a maniac would try to weave his ship through the sandbanks. 

A dark grin stretched his lips as the ship lept forward for the opening. Too bad for the Orcs, then, that Thorin had lost his sanity years ago. 

" _Estribor_!" came the cry from the crow's nest. Starboard! 

Thorin had never sailed through here before, but he knew that while Bifur could see most of the shoals waiting to beach them, there would be some hidden beneath the waves to catch them unaware. There always were. 

They would need Mahal's own luck to get through here in one piece. 

"Bolg is following. Other ships are falling back," Bella said. "Damn it. He never did have any sense." 

"Do you know him?" Thorin grunted as he checked his compass. 

"Unfortunately. Remind me to regale you with that story at a less emotionally charged time." 

What? He glanced over his shoulder. Bella's gaze was fixed on the other ship, her lips pursed in disgust. "What's wrong with now?" 

"Oh, I just don't think you'd take the news well when you already think so little of me." 

"Bella, just spit it out." 

"I think you should be concentrating on navigating. Unless, of course, I'm mistaken as to the duties of the captain." 

"Are you ever not sassy?" 

She considered this for a moment. "Only when I have no other option." 

"Of course." Thorin waited a moment, finagling the hanging of the main sail. "So what is the story?" 

"You're worse than a dog with a bone, do you know that?" 

"It's part of my charm." 

"If you say so." 

"Hold that thought." Thorin eased the ship between the prows of two Orc crafts. The Orcs had only belatedly started to cut them off, leaving just enough room to squeak through with his much more nimble craft. 

In open water, there would have been no way they would have caught the Craft. Thorin had too many extra sails and much less weight. But Bolg had crept up when they were hugging the coastline and pounced before they could get the wind behind them. 

Smarmy bastard. 

The two Orc vessels slammed into each other, narrowly missing the back of Thorin's ship. A smug smile might have hovered on the edge of his mouth, especially when Bella let out a low whistle. 

"I see your plan now. Startle ten years off of my life so you'll finally get some peace and quiet." 

"I confirm nothing. Open up the long nines, boys!" 

Kili, Bofur and Nori ran for the lower decks. Within five minutes, they had the back cannons firing shot after shot at the Orcs. 

"Nutter," she muttered with no small degree of fondness unless his ears did deceive. "You're enjoying yourself."

"So are you." Her color was heightened and a matching, maniacal grin stretched her mouth. "You were saying?" 

"Fine, but don't blame me when you explode. Bolg and I were...betrothed once. My uncle thought it would be a good match, and financially lucrative for him, after my parents died and I came of age. Until I stole the engagement ring and gave it to another woman." 

"You were engaged to _Bolg?_ " 

Bella rolled her eyes. "Gaze on the sea, O Mighty Captain. Yes, I was. Now he is married and I count my lucky stars each night. He does, however, have a horrible habit of still believing that I belong to him." 

"How old were you?" 

"Fourteen," she answered. "That was the start of Bella the thief." 

His hands tightened on the wheel. It wasn't uncommon for women- girls, really-to marry so young, but Bolg was older than Thorin. He would never have taken the time to gently initiate a girl into the duties of being a wife. 

The thought of Bella at that filth's mercy made Thorin's skin crawl. "Bolg has a lot to answer for." 

"Yes, but I would just as soon not have today be his reckoning. We're sadly outnumbered." 

"Preaching to the choir, Bella," he snapped. It wasn't that he was angry with Bella, but the whole situation made him testy. If Bolg got his hands on her, there was not a doubt in Thorin's mind that she would be made to severely regret her duplicity. Thorin would not let Bolg harm another innocent. 

"Hard port! Hard port!" Fili screamed, hanging over the railing. 

Thorin moved to spin the wheel when Bella's hand came down on his. "THORIN!" 

Bolg had maneuvered his ship alongside theirs. Thorin couldn't steer left. 

"Cannons to port! Fire at will!" 

Bolg appeared to be bellowing the same orders. Both ships rocked with blasts. A cannonball whizzed past Bella's head, smashed through the railing and disappeared into the water. 

"GET DOWN!" 

She dropped to the deck and swiped his legs out from under him. "We should both be sensible about this." 

"There is nothing sensible about fighting, Bella." 

"On that we agree." 

With a huge, sickening crack, the mast was hit. Steering now became irrelevant as the ship careened wildly, the heavy beam swaying back and forth. A huge jolt sent half of the men flying from the deck as the hull hit thick sand. 

It was the last impact that did it. The mast splintered and fell. It smashed into Bolg's deck, driving the other ship onto the shoal as well. 

"KEEP FIRING!" Thorin roared. He would take out as many of Bolg's crew as he could before it came time to board and fight. 

Cannons belched fire and death, screams tearing at the air. 

Thorin raced down the steps, sword drawn and saw Bolg standing at the other end of the mast. His men were gathering their weapons, preparing to the use the huge beam as a ramp between the vessels. 

Bella followed him down, heading to the opposite side of the ship where many of the men were clinging to the tilted deck for dear life. She limped there as quickly as she could, catching the rope Bombur tossed her. 

Leaving them in her capable hands, Thorin strode forward to meet the oncoming threat. 

"Ho! Ho!" Gandalf trotted past, something in his hands glowing a dull red. The crazy loon had set the wooden plates on fire and was now tossing them onto the downed sails. The dry linens caught fire almost immediately, whipped into fierce flames by the strong sea breeze. 

The Orc crew reared back from the heat. Now only Bolg himself stood by the mast, taunting Thorin with his gaze. 

"You want to die, you honorless thug? Fine. It will be my pleasure to send you to Davy Jones' Locker," Thorin called. He jumped onto the beam and jogged forward, gathering momentum. 

 

****

 

"THORIN!" Isabella screamed. He wouldn't be- couldn't be- that reckless. Bolg's crew, even after the cannon fire, still outnumbered them two to one. And Bolg would never risk the harm to himself. He would let Thorin advance and then throw Orcs at him until Thorin was buried under bodies. 

Throwing the rope to Dwalin who was really more suited for pulling up the others anyway, Isabella raced, pulling her useless leg behind her, to the base of the broken mast. "Gandalf, you must stop him!" 

"The fire is too hot. Thorin is on his own." Gandalf was barely watching the horror unfold. His gaze searched the cloudless blue sky for something. 

Not willing to wait for divine intervention, Isabella ran to the galley as quickly as she could. Dousing herself with the drinking water, she cursed Thorin with every breath. 

Gripping her dagger tightly, she returned to the deck and scrambled onto the beam connecting their fates with those of the Orcs. Horrible heat fanned her face, growing more and more intense as she inched her way forward. Her wet dress didn't catch fire, but steam rose in tight spirals from the fabric. Without two good legs, Isabella didn't have the balance to walk across, so she was reduced to scooting forward on her behind. 

Her progress was painfully slow. With every second she fell behind Thorin who was now hopping down onto the Orc ship. He held Orcrist in a confident grasp, walking lightly on his feet, concentrating only on Bolg. 

They exchanged words she couldn't hear over the roar of the fire and cannons before Thorin struck. 

Of all the horrible things to happen to Isabella since leaving her home, this was the most agonizing. Watching Thorin and Bolg fight while other Orcs harried and stabbed at her captain while she was so....so.. _.fucking_ helpless, was the worst thing she had ever experienced. 

Tears sprang to her eyes with each slice across Thorin's unarmored flank. The fire quickly dried the tears and swallowed her screams. 

Flesh burning and tearing as splinters dug into her hands and flames licked her legs, Isabella didn't feel the pain. All of her attention was focused on the battle. 

"Please, Thorin. Come back. Don't! It's a trap," she sobbed. 

He didn't hear. Instead he pressed forward, whirling away from the swords of the three surrounding Orcs. Beauty in motion, he was lithe and strong compared to their jerky motions and half-thought out attacks. 

But he was overwhelmed. Four against one in such tight quarters, wasn't a fight. It was a massacre no matter how long he could prolong the inevitable end with his skill. 

One of the Orcs, a barb of metal through his left eye, lept in behind Thorin's guard and stabbed at his stomach. Thorin managed to twist away enough to avoid being gutted, but a thick line of crimson followed in the sword's wake. 

Thorin fell back, trying to staunch the bleeding with one hand. Isabella was more than halfway across. She didn't know what she was going to do when she reached him, but damn it! Surely she could do something. Maybe the surprise of her arrival would give him time to regroup. 

No sooner had she thought this when the unthinkable happened. An Orc launched himself from the riggings, dagger in each hand, and landed on Thorin. The men went down. Limbs flailed and thrashed. The Orc's head went flying and Thorin collapsed on the deck. 

He didn't get back up. 

"Bring me his head," Bolg snarled, sitting back on a the corpse of a fallen comrade. 

"Oh, no you don't!" Isabella let out a screech and half jumped, half collapsed on the approaching Orcs. She stabbed wildly, hitting any body that she could. 

The Orcs, for their part, were so startled by her arrival that they backed away to reassess.  

"Lady Isabella?" Bolg's eyes popped out of his head. 

"You bet your tiny cock, I am. Leave these waters, Bolg." She put in as much steel and command in her voice as she was able seeing as she was lying prone over an unconscious man they had just stabbed. 

"My cock is not tiny." 

Sweet Acorns! Was that all men thought about? "Nice to know you picked up the important message in those words." 

He glared. "You chose the wrong side, my lady. Not even the Five will be able to protect you from what is coming." 

"And what is that?" She nudged Thorin onto his side, slipping an arm around his shoulders. There was no way they were making it back across the mast, but maybe they could jump into the sea. 

Thorin was heavier than he looked. She wouldn't be carrying him even the short distance to the edge, not in this state. "Don't you know it's fashionable to be thin?" she grumbled. 

"Leave him, my lady, and I'll spare your life. But Thorin Oakenshield's time is up." 

"You will not take him!" 

"Ah. Yes, I can see that. It's obvious from your very large sword and massive amounts of support from your crew." 

Isabella narrowed her eyes. "Sarcasm never did become you, Bolg. Best leave it to the experts." 

The smug son of a bitch laughed. "Fine. You've made your choice. Kill the pirate, lads, but the lady is mine. We have some business in the bedroom to attend to. Do it well and I might share her when I'm done." 

Lascivious grins cloaked the Orcs as they advanced again. 

Isabella took a steadying breath and threw her dagger. It caught Bolg in the base of his throat. 

Well, she had been aiming for his eye, but she'd take what she could get. 

He screamed in pain, pulled out the dagger and threw it back at her feet. His dark blood smeared on the wooden deck. One hand smashed against the wound to stem the blood flow, the smug glint finally disappeared from his face. "That's it, bitch. You are going to p-" 

Not seeing any point in waiting around for that sentence to be completed, Isabella swiped the blade up, braced her arms against Thorin's back and pushed. 

"AHHHHHH!" The large man finally started to roll. She followed, trying to stay small to avoid the blows the Orcs rained down on her. Then, suddenly, their attack vanished. Hardly daring to look, Isabella found Dwalin, Nori and Bifur on the Orc ship. How on earth did they get across? The mast was mostly ash now. 

Deciding it was an answer for a later time, Isabella kept pushing. Thorin's breathing was growing alarmingly shallow and he didn't respond when she called his name. 

Agonizing seconds later, they reached the edge and she shoved him off. Dwalin caught her eye and gestured for her to follow. "We'll handle this!" 

Not one to ignore capital advice, Isabella dove in to the sea. 

It was a good plan until she realized that wet Thorin was a hell of a lot heavier than dry Thorin. Struggling to keep both of their heads above water, Isabella couldn't swim for _Aulë's Craft_. They just bobbed in place, occasionally going under with a wave, sitting ducks for Orcs to shoot at. 

"Bella!" Kili threw a rope down. 

It splashed a few meters ahead of her. Grimly, Isabella fought the current to reach it. At the rate she was going, she would lose her leg. Even though Oin had reset and bound it, the knee was too swollen to lend any power to her kicks. 

Kili must have sensed her struggles. After firing off another shot at the Orcs, he dropped his pistol and dove into the water. Surfacing next to her, hair plastered to his face, Kili took Thorin's weight and struck out for the rope. 

When she finally reached the rope and was hauled back on board by Fili, she was gasping for breath. Saltwater sizzled in her wounds and burns until she wanted to break down and cry from the pain. 

"HERE!" Gandalf called. Something soft and warm settled over Isabella and she was hoisted into a man's arms. 

Blinking away her wet curls, she found a tall, dark skinned man grinning down at her. "My lady." 

Convinced she was dreaming, Isabella could only stare at him. Huge wings of golden feathers erupted from the man's back, held on by leather straps and a mechanical contraption that suddenly flared to life, extending a wingspan longer than she was tall. 

The wind hit the wings and with the man's running start, they were flying! 

Torn between screaming and laughing, all Isabella could utter was a "Meep!" She clutched tighter at the man and her blanket. 

"Don't you worry, lassie. I've been flying since I was knee high to a cricket. Just pretend we're on a kite." 

Easier said than done. 

Summoning her courage, Isabella peaked around the man's arm. Crystalline blue water spun past below, the sounds of the fighting growing distant. They were headed for another ship anchored half a league away. 

"Eagles," she breathed. 

The man ducked his head respectfully. 

The Eagles were a brotherhood of Jesuit priests enamored with the idea of flight. Adapting ancient Chinese and Arabic practices of gliding on a huge kite, they had created wing suits that allowed them to ride the air currents. It wasn't truly flying, the wings didn't flap and they were at the mercy of the wind, but it was the closest anyone had ever come. 

Peering over the Eagle's shoulder, Isabella saw similar winged figures following them. Each one appeared to be carrying one of her friends. 

"You," she breathed, "have impeccable timing." 

*****

 

 _Frerin dying! Bolg! Bella! Bella surrounded!_ Thorin jerked awake. His hands closed instinctively around the hilt of his sword. He had to get up. Bella was in danger! 

"Ah. There he is. Carefully now." Gandalf helped him sit up. 

They were on the deck of an unfamiliar ship. Men he didn't recognize in long brown robes watched him interestedly. His men were crowded around him, concern and fear written on every face. "Where are we?" 

"We are aboard _The Carrock_. The Eagles have kindly lent their help in our rather dire situation. We'll reach their home port, Eyrie, in a little while. Don't worry about your ship. They have agreed to tow it to Havana for repairs," Gandalf answered. 

It all came back to Thorin in a rush. Bolg on the other ship. An ambush of Orcs. Futile fights and blazing pain. 

And Bella. Bella standing between him and Bolg. 

Then...nothing. 

He glanced around, but didn't see her. 

Oh, Mahal. Had something happened to her? Had he failed her again? 

"The Hobbit! Where is Bella?" 

"Don't worry, she's right here. She's quite safe." Gandalf leaned back and her small figure came into view. 

If possible, she looked even more bedraggled than she had after the Goblin caves. Her hands and bare feet were red with wicked looking burns, and her knee had swollen to magnificent proportions. There was hardly a spot on her that wasn't covered in burns or ash or blood. 

Bella watched him clamber to his feet. Feeling as if he had suddenly aged twenty years in a day, Thorin limped forward. Her expression was one of cold distaste. 

"I said you didn't belong with us. That you had no place amongst pirates, a seasick burglar with no sense of loyalty. You who were engaged to Bolg and friend to the Elves," he murmured, watching carefully to gauge her emotions. 

Bella just stared at him, old pain flickering in the depths of her gaze. 

"I have never been so wrong in all my life. I was too blind to see beyond my own prejudice. I am sorry, Bella." He gave her a chance to move before he leaned down to do what he had been dreaming of for weeks. Cupping her chin in one hand, he brushed a kiss across her mouth. 

For a wonderful, blissful second, all he felt was heat and the soft resilience of her lips. 

White light erupted behind his eyes and Thorin reeled back, pressing a hand to the side of his stinging face. 

Bella's hand was raised as if she were giving serious thought to hitting him again. Fire fairly shot from her eyes as she yelled. "YOU RAT'S BASTARD! You....you _idiot_! What the fuck made you think taking on ten bloody Orcs by yourself was a good idea? Have you LOST YOUR MIND? Fuck you, Thorin Oakenshield!" 

"Worried about me?" he asked with a cocky grin. 

"No, you moron! I saved your sorry ass because it just sounded like fun. You. Are. Driving. Me. To. Cursing!" Each word was punctuated by a sharp blow to his chest. 

Hearing snickers, Thorin became vaguely aware that his crew, Gandalf, and the Eagles were all watching them. He didn't care. Emblazoned in her concerned anger, Bella was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. 

"Don't even think of it." She warned as he stepped closer. "You are not going to kiss me until I'm tongue tied and can't yell at you any more." 

"You won't hit me again," he said. 

"Don't count on it, yahoo." 

Thorin grinned, caught her around the waist, yanked her close and kissed her. Nibbling on her lower lip, Thorin teased open her lips. Like a man dying of thirst, Thorin had to taste her. 

_Let me in, Bella._

With a moan, her lips parted. Sweet as honeysuckle and hot as an inferno, the first taste of her velvet mouth exploded in his senses. The desperate panic he felt over her being in danger eased slightly as she melted against him. Violent hunger ignited his blood. Dragging her closer, Thorin growled low in his throat. He held her cheek reverently, rubbing his thumb along her luscious skin.

As much as he wanted to devour her on the spot, Thorin wanted- _needed-_ to take this slow.

Cherish her. 

_Bella. Only Bella._ He would protect her for as long as she gave him that honor. _Mine. My beautiful, fiery Bella._

Bella did punch him again. 

It was worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this, at least the end, made you smile! The world needs more laughter in it.  
> Never fear for the delicious tension between our two lovely protagonists. I have some Big Plans for them.  
> This might be the last update for a short while. I have my other story to work on (which in a shameless bit of self- promotion you can find here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/1113842/chapters/2242799). It's a little bit more ridiculous than this one, but still quite fun ( I hope). 
> 
> As always, please let me know what you think! 
> 
> What did you think of the Eagles? Here's an interesting little bit about the first hang glider in history. Back in the 9th century! Go Engineers! http://blog.paksc.org/2011/10/14/745/
> 
> Also, because I'm a nitwit, I forgot to post the chapter right before this. So if you just read this, go back and read the new chapter 12!


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A monstrous creature is sighted, a safe place for the night's repose is found, and Thorin and Isabella have a....conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! This chapter contains some plot and some sexual content

"Ten silvers. Bella kills him," Bofur said loudly.

No one took the bet.

Which was a little insulting, Thorin thought. He had years of combat experience and this was Bella's third time handling a sword longer than her forearm. She was a quick learner, he'd grant, but still...

Then his back the hard ground and Bella landed on top of him, sword tapping against his chest.

"Are you trying to take it easy on me or are you working for their entertainment?" she asked, chest rising and falling with each deep breath. The swell of her breasts brushed against his forearm as she caught her breath, and he was sure that he could feel their creamy texture even through the thin layer of her clothes.

They had been practicing for several hours. Thorin never wanted her to be in as much danger as she had been with Bolg again. So he drilled her every day with every type of weapon he could think of.

Bella, for her part, took it seriously, never begrudging the exercise or the teasing comments from the men.

Thorin made a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat. Neither, really. He had been distracted by her.

In concession to the heat and the labor, she had stripped down to her chemise, corset, and a divided skirt. The fabric molded lovingly to her figure, becoming nearly see-through as she sweated. It was hardly this side of decent, and it was throwing Thorin for a loop.

Especially when she planted her knees to either side of his torso, rising above him like a goddess waiting for her mate. If they were alone in his cabin, he could rip off the ridiculous thin fabric, grab her hips and sheath himself within her fire.

Bella's gaze grew smoky as she read the hunger on his face he didn't bother to hide. He hadn't kissed her again since leaving the Eagles. He wanted to give her time to come to him, to be sure this was what she really wanted and not because she felt obliged to since he was her captain.

Not that he didn't want to kiss her, mind. It was all he could think about: the soft resilience of her lips, the way she had melted into him, the little sound of surrender she made when he thrust his tongue into her hot mouth.

But he didn't want this to be a temporary fling. He had resigned himself, finally admitted, that he wanted Bella for longer than a quick fuck. If she came to him, she was accepting him, all of him, for more than just one night.

"Tell me, Captain," Bella murmured, lithely climbing off him and offering him a hand up. Her burns were healing well, but each time he caught sight of the bandages covering her skin, it was a punch to the gut. "Do you think I've earned the right to handle your sword?"

Thorin nodded, taking a step closer to her, his mouth parting in anticipation...

"Excellent. We'll swap this time." She tugged Orcist out of his grasp and replaced it with her own, heavier practice sword. With a cheeky grin, she spun away and took up guard. "At your word, Captain."

That minx!

He twirled the sword through the air and nodded. A small smile tugged at his mouth. She wanted to play? Fine. He could draw this delicious torture out. She had thrown in her dice. She was his now. All they were prolonging was the inevitable, wonderful conclusion.

"That's going to have to wait, I'm afraid." Gandalf appeared. "We're in need of your services again, child mine."

Bella turned to look at him. He drew some sign in the air and pointed behind them.

Between one heartbeat and the next, Bella transformed. The bright light in her gaze disappeared beneath shadows and steel slid into her features. She tossed Orcrist back, slipped on her bodice, tied the stays and strode away without a word. Her gait was cautious and wary, yet covered a lot of ground in just a few light steps.

Though they stood on a grassy hilltop with nothing in sight but rolling hills and wildflowers, she somehow managed to disappear within ten meters. Thorin blinked, scanning the land, but could see no trace of her.

How in the bloody hell had she done that?

"Quite talented, my goddaughter," Gandalf said proudly. "Now come, we should wait somewhere a little less exposed."

"What did you send Bella to look at?" Thorin demanded as the lads gathered up their things.

Since his ship was currently in Havana undergoing repairs, the crew had been forced to continue the journey to Erebor on foot. They were at the very southern tip of Andros Island. All that stood between them and Erebor now was a thick forest and a stretch of ocean.

Maybe the longer trip on foot would give him time to come to grasps with what the fuck he was going to do about Smaug.

"Something important," came the reply.

Thorin closed his eyes on a sigh. One of these days he was going to learn to save his breath.

They found an outcropping of rocks a mile away. Settling down for a bite of lunch, Thorin considered Gandalf. "Why didn't the Five help?"

Sharp blue eyes lept to his. Full of regret and hope and secrets, Thorin was rather concerned that Gandalf's head was about to blow up. How could one man have so many thoughts swirling in his head at once?

"Thorin, we are but five people. Five people trying to keep pirates from disappearing from the face of the seas. Pirates on their best days do not appreciate our advice let alone our meddling. When Erebor fell, had any of us been there, we would have done our utmost to assist you and yours, but we cannot save everyone nor be everywhere."

Gandalf tapped his pipe against the rock. "But Smaug has been growing on my mind lately. It is a threat I do not think we can ignore any longer, not with the way the winds are turning in the east."

What had he been expecting? There was honest regret in Gandalf's tone, yes, but to the old man, Thorin and his people were pawns on the chessboard of Middle Earth.

A slight scuff of leather against rock was the only warning they had before Bella was upon them. She slipped down a boulder taller than Gandalf into the middle of their circle.

"Didn't want to startle you," she said in answer to Bofur's surprise she had made any noise at all. "Too many pointy objects waiting to kill me."

"Did you see anything?" Dwalin demanded.

"Let her catch her breath," Fili reprimanded him. The big pirate ignored him.

"I saw the Orc,." Bella said, catching the water skin Oin tossed her. "They're about four leagues off. However, to complicate matters-"

"See? You can doubt Isabella all you want, but there is no one quieter or sneakier in Middle Earth." Gandalf patted her fondly on the head.

Utter exasperation colored her face. Thorin grinned, sure that if she hadn't been raised with strict social rules, her eyes would be rolling hard enough to stir the seas.

The men clapped her on the back. "Brilliant. What are we waiting for? We head north!"

"Thank you, that's very kind, but what I'm was going to say was there is-"

"Hurry up, lassie! The Orcs are a ways off, but we'll be outnumbered."

"SHUT UP!"

Everyone jumped. Gazing up in wonderment, Thorin found Bella glaring at all of them, hands clenched at her sides, eyes blazing. "I need to tell you, there is something else out there!"

Thorin closed his eyes. Did it ever end?

"Is it in the shape of a beast?" Gandalf asked quietly.

Bella blinked and some of her anger disappeared. "Well, yes. I didn't want to get too close, but it appeared to be an enormous jaguar. I haven't ever heard of a jaguar on an island, at least not one this far east before. Nor have I ever heard of a beast so large."

The old man turned to gaze over the landscape. His fingers twitched on his staff, a rapid staccato that didn't sit well with Thorin. What was Gandalf afraid of?

"We have but one option. There is a place not too far from here where we might find shelter."

"There is a 'but' in that sentence," Thorin muttered.

" _Though_ , the owner is not overly fond of pirates."

"Well, nice knowing you then, lads," Bella said flippantly to diffuse the tension. Her shoulders had grown tight, but other than that she didn't appear to be afraid.

Bless, Bella. She had a knack for putting the men at ease.

The crew was brave, no denying that. Thorin trusted each and everyone of them to follow him into whatever deep pit of hell awaited them in Erebor. But they had been through so much in just a few weeks. The strain was beginning to show as they faced yet another unknown threat. Much longer under such stress and there would be long term consequences.

"Nice try!" Fili and Kili each grabbed one of her arms and frog-marched her down the rocky slope.

Her frown quickly lost the battle against her smile as she turned to look at Thorin. "Captain!"

Thorin swung his bag onto his shoulders and followed. "Are you in need of assistance, my lady?"

"That depends, what sort of assistance are you offering?"

"Well, my usual repertoire includes bellowing loudly, disemboweling the offending parties followed by dismemberment and decapitation."

"Hmm." Bella pursed her lips in consideration. "How much do you charge for these services?"

"Twenty gold."

"Oh, don't be an angry sod!" Kili exclaimed. "You're no damsel in distress."

Bella considered this for a moment, nodding her head. "You're right, I'm not."

"OW!" Both of his nephews lept away as she, with a clever twist of her shoulders, jerked their arms to an uncomfortable angle and slipped free.

"Still, I might be willing to part with a few gold to see your disembowelment technique."

Thorin grinned. "Blood thirsty wench."

"Curious opportunist," she countered. "You wouldn't believe the appalling manners of some of the gentry. They think a single dance is an invitation for something more." A sigh. "Just imagine if I took a filleting knife to a ball. No man would ever know peace again."

All of the crew edged slightly away from her. Thorin just smiled and kissed her temple. "We'll make a pirate of you yet."

The afternoon wore on as they warily hiked farther north. The rocky crags of the coast gave way to a forest of thin trees that grew closer and closer the farther in they walked.

Helping Bella over a particularly thorny bush since her knee was still tender though the swelling had thankfully gone down, Thorin caught Gandalf watching the trees with a furrow between his brow. "How did you know there was a beast on the island?"

Any response that was probably going to be cryptic was drowned out by a basso roar that shook leaves from the trees. It was a primal, gut wrenching roar that made every muscle in his body clench.

It was the roar from a beast that his forefathers had learned long ago wanted only one thing: food. The knowledge, ingrained in his bones, told him that now was the time to find the nearest hole and hide because there was no winning against such ferocity.

"Run!" Gandalf called.

"Will you manage?" Thorin asked Bella, still holding onto her hands.

"We're about to find out. Don't worry about me, just run!" she said grimly.

Thorin waited for her to get going before starting to jog. Her gait was not as fluid as normal and she favored the leg, but she made good speed and her face remained free of pain.

They tore through the forest, hardly noticing where they were headed. Sometimes the beast sounded directly on top of them, other times far away. They would only catch glimpses of the monster, snatches of black fur through the trees or ragged, enormous teeth behind the bark.

Fear grew steadily in Thorin's gut as he realized what the creature was doing. It was playing with them.

"We're close now," Gandalf reassured them as the monster snarled again. "We'll just have to beat it to the house."

The damned thing was almost directly in front of them though it had yet to completely reveal itself.

"On my mark. Three...two...NOW!"

Bursting out of the trees, they raced across a clearing, leaping a small stream. Sweat ran down Thorin's face in a river and breath sawed in and out of his lungs. It had been years since he had run so much. They must have covered some ten miles since the creature had first roared.

He dared a look behind them and immediately wished he hadn't. It had been one thing, having it stalk them through the woods, his imagination playing tricks with its size. It was quite another to see the monster full on.

The top of Thorin's head would just reach its shoulder. Sleek, black fur covered thick muscles and a tail longer than Bella was tall thrashed behind it. The jaguar was enormous. Golden orbs flecked with green stared at them ravenously as it opened its maw, fangs glistening wetly, and hissed.

A red blur had Thorin whipping his head back around. Bombur, large girth and three chins wobbling madly, poured on the speed and passed them all. The others stared in shock before they realized his sense and hurried to catch up.

They had all seen many things in their years on the seas. The depths of human depravity had long since ceased to startle Thorin. He could face down Goblins, Orcs, and Smaug himself.

But no matter his training, his experience, his courage, nothing had prepared Thorin for the sight of a jaguar the size of Mahal himself coming to eat his ass and play chase the string with his entrails.

Catching Bella around the waist, Thorin threw her over one shoulder and charged headlong after his men.

Gandalf waved them into the garden of a house that was so well camouflaged into the surrounding nature, Thorin had to look twice to find the front door. Vines crawled up the front of sturdy logs, masking the windows from the sun's glare. Sod coated the roof and wildlife walked calmly over the cobblestone front path.

"Open the door!" Thorin bellowed. They'd have to apologize to their host for the rude entry later.

Ten hands reached for the bar across the front door. For some ridiculous and, at the moment, life threatening, reason, the bar was at the height of their heads. Just as they knocked it up high enough to open the doors, the jaguar reached them.

Throwing Bella inside, Thorin drew Orcrist and whirled on the beast.

It watched him closely as he backed into the safety of the house. He kept his movements round and slow. Just a few more feet. Ten inches....Six....

The jaguar lept. Teeth snapped shut on the hem of Thorin's tunic as he jumped backwards. The men tried to close the door as the razor sharp teeth pressed against the door, trying to push its way in.

"HEAVE!" Dwalin bellowed.

With one almighty push, they slammed the door closed and bolted it.

Breathing heavily, Thorin pressed his back to the door. His heart beat so quickly that he was afraid it was going to burst from his chest. Being chased by a monster put his own insignificance into perspective. No matter how far humans advanced technologically, they were still basically just food for things bigger and scarier.

"What was that?" Dori demanded as frustrated growls came from outside.

"That," Gandalf said hoarsely, "is our host."

Bella stared at him for a beat before collapsing in hysterical laughter, arms around her middle. "G-godfather. Th-that is a jaguar! They don't live in houses."

"There are more things in this world, dear one, than you can imagine." Gandalf helped her off of the floor. "Everyone get some rest. We're safe enough her for the night."

"Wait a moment." Bella wobbled on her legs until Bifur guided her to a seat. "What do you mean? Who- _what_ \- is our host?"

"Tomorrow, child." Gandalf collapsed wearily in a chair. "No one is capable of dealing with the truth tonight."

Bella frowned, but didn't press. Instead she set everyone to unpacking while she investigated their host's pantry. Before Thorin could worry that she was putting too much stress on her knee, she had turned out a cold meal, poured some ale, and made tea for her godfather.

She gave Thorin a reassuring smile as she sank to the floor by Gandalf. "I'm fine," she mouthed.

His eyebrows nearly flew off his forehead. Right. And he was a virgin nun. Still, she was sitting down. He would make sure she ate something and rest. They had a safe place to rest for the night.

Gandalf and Bella chatted quietly as the men devoured the meal. Thorin wandered over with a plate for both of them and sat next to Bella. She leaned against him, listening to some convoluted family story Gandalf as telling.

Thorin rubbed his chin over her curls, his mind wandering as his hand settled on her hip. They were finally under a roof, granted it was a bit of a rustic house, but there were beds and some semblance of privacy...

His eyes slipped closed as his hands itched to wander.

"Thorin." Something soft brushed his cheek.

Reluctantly his eyes opened. Darkness had fallen. He could just barely make out Bella crouched next to him as she kissed his cheek again. Everyone had fallen asleep. Bombur's snores were filtering down the hallway. The crick in his neck was telling Thorin he had been asleep for a few hours.

"Bella?"

"Come on, let's get you to bed."

He grinned, fighting off the sleepiness. "Are you going to join me?"

She laughed quietly. "Definitely time for sleep."

Standing before she could rise, Thorin snatched her off the ground and threw her over his shoulder. Their quota for Life Threatening Situations had been filled for the day, and he was going to enjoy the reprieve.

"Are you trying to make a statement by carrying me this way?"

"Yes. Me caveman. You delicious treat." He bounced her lightly.

Bella sighed. "You aren't nearly half as funny as you think you are." But her voice kicked up on a smile.

"Says the woman who laughs at all of my jokes."

"That's mostly out of pity. I'm trying to help you in front of your crew."

"Ahhh. So it's out of the goodness of your heart that you pretend to enjoy my company."

"It's no easy task. I'm a saint for taking you on," she agreed mournfully. "I'm awaiting news of my canonization any day now."

Thorin chuckled quietly as he tiptoed out of the house. The back garden was wild, unruly and breathtakingly beautiful in the moonlight. Insects hummed softly as the breeze lazily stirred the leaves. A high wall surrounded the secluded paradise. "You curse too much for a saint."

"And whose fault is that?"

"Mine. And I am about to sin again." He set her down, guiding her down the front of his body so no starlight passed between them.

Bella's eyes were huge, fathomless pools in the darkness. Her hair had fallen out of its chignon, falling in soft curls about her face. Skimming a fingertip over her cheek, Thorin shook his head. "Bella...you deserve so much better."

She rose up on her toes and kissed him. Thorin let her guide the kiss, heat igniting in his veins as she molded to him. Generous and passionate, she gave herself completely to him, nibbling his lower lip, shyly touching the tip of her tongue to his. He fisted a hand into her hair and kissed her back.

Her knees buckled, and his nearly did too, before he guided her to the ground, settling himself firmly atop of her. Her breasts crushed against his chest and she threw a leg over his hip, tilting just enough that his hardness pressed against her.

Slick and hot and _desperate_ , the kiss built. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, mimicking what he longed to do with his cock. Bella responded in kind, rolling her hips up to him, biting his lower lip hard enough to leave a mark, caressing the back of his neck.

Bella gave a soft mewl of disappointment when he broke away, pressing his forehead to hers. She tangled her fingers in his hair, forcing him to look at her. "Don't you ever say that again, Thorin Oakenshield. You have your flaws- many of them- but no man is as kind or loyal or strong as you."

He drew back, wanting to read the truth in her eyes. "Bella, there is so much you don't know about me. What I've done."

Unless he was very much mistaken, that was an eye roll. "And you can't say the same about me? I don't regret many things in life, Thorin, but there are several that I would have done differently. All of it, the good and the bad, have combined to make me the person I am today. The same is true for you, and it is the person you are now that I want to be with."

He hesitated. Mahal, he wanted to believe her, but what future could he possibly offer her? He would be dragging her not only into physical danger, but emotional danger as well. There was a darkness in him. If he wasn't careful it would consume both of them.

"Don't," Bella said sharply, reading his hesitation. "We all have our flaws, Thorin. Dark parts in our souls that we don't want anyone to see. Trust me to accept yours as I do you. I don't care if you're manic or feel like you're losing your morality or not equipped to handle the world. I know that some days are going to be boring or agonizing or so full of joy I want to run away from the intensity. But I don't care. As long as I have you, I have everything I need."

Scalding tears coated both of their cheeks as he stared at her in wonder. She was so accepting. So generous. He had no idea what he had done to be given such a gift, but he was never going to let her go. Brushing his lips over hers, Thorin took a deep breath and dived into the uncertain waters.

"For years all I have thought about was trying to make a future for my people. We live day to day, mired in our loss. I always thought about Erebor, about finding my father again, seeing Fili and Kili happy. But I never dared to hope. It was just too damned painful. Then I meet you. From day one, you've been challenging how I view the world. You've become my hope."

A smile that wobbled on her lips. "You've become mine as well, Thorin. Hope for a future without loneliness and fear."

Bella, here with him, blazed so brightly that for a blissful moment, he forgot to fear the future.

 

Isabella smiled at Thorin through her tears. Happiness bubbled up until she wanted to shout her mirth to the sky. Finally, _finally_.

Reverently, he kissed her. "We should take this slowly."

"No." She moaned as he found a tender spot on her neck. "Thorin, don't make me wait."

He snarled under his breath. "Damn it, woman! I'm trying to be a gentleman here."

"Why? They're useless. Just be you. Thorin, please. Fuck me like I dream." Bella arched beneath him, her nails scraping deliciously over his scalp. She couldn't wait anymore. Not when they might well be killed tomorrow.

"We really need to do something about your cursing."

"Really? Because I think you enjoy it." Her hand slid cheekily down his muscular chest. Hard and hot, his cock swelled in her palm. A brief moment of panic touched her. He was so big. She had only done this once and Thaddeus hadn't been nearly as large. Granted, neither of them had really known what they were doing, but it still managed to be pleasant at times. Overall though, it had been a dashed uncomfortable experience.

What if Thorin-

He kissed her again and thought fled. Somehow he inserted a hand between them and undid the lacing on her corset. Lifting her arms to get rid of the clothes, Isabella tugged impatiently at Thorin's shirt. She wanted- _needed_ \- to see all of him. Feel every inch of his skin press up against hers.

When her fingertips ghosted over a scar bisecting his abdomen, Thorin flinched. Immediately, she snatched her hand back. "I'm sorry, I didn't me-"

"You didn't. But next to you, I look like a rag man. You're so damned beautiful."

She gaped at him. "Did you take a knock to the head today?" He was the most gorgeous man she had ever seen. Toned, tanned, and so strong. The scars and freckles dotting his skin only made him more real. A mortal man instead of a god molded from gold and granite.

Thorin laughed. His long hair danced merrily down his back and his eyes lit up with inviting mischief. "You are, Bella. Every other woman pales in comparison to you."

"Yep, definitely gone mad."

In answer he nibbled his way down her neck. Isabella buried her hands in his hair as he kissed the swell of her breast. When he licked her nipple, she just about flew away. Chuckling around the tender flesh, Thorin gave her a moment to resettle before he drew her into his mouth and suckled.

"Thorin!" Isabella writhed, pleasure spiking through her. Propelling her hips forward, she begged him without words.

"Patience, little one. I don't want to hurt you. Nor will I rush this. I'm going to savor every inch of you."

"Well, if you-ah!-insist." She splayed her hands on his chest, intrigued by the dark line of hair that disappeared into his trousers. "Does that mean I get to play too?"

Warm breath gusted over her hip bones in a chuckle. "Only if you want to end the night frustrated. The moment you touch me, I'll combust."

He looked so damned sexy lying atop her, breath coming in sharp pants, hair in wild disarray, eyes half glazed with passion. Isabella was sure that in that moment, nothing else existed in his mind except thoughts of her. No worries, no strategies, no pain. Just her.

Lapping at her bellybutton, Thorin admitted in a low voice, "you have no idea how much I've dreamt of this, Bella. Every time I look at you, I burn."

Any response she had became a throttled scream as he slid his finger in her slick channel. Her muscles clamped down so tightly that he spat out a curse in wonder. "Fuck. It's alright, Bella. Just trust me."

Thrashing on the soft ground as his hand began to pump, she whimpered. "Please, Thorin! I need you."

Thorin whispered another curse as he bent his head and licked, long and slow, the source of the inferno building inside of her. She moaned on the verge of coming apart.

But Thorin didn't stop there. He settled between her thighs, lifted her hips and _devoured_ her.

He stroked and nibbled and licked, uncovering every secret, every ragged moan, every intimate reaction. He made her buck wildly with pleasure. Made her beg and sob his name. Pushed her higher and higher until she sobbed with the need for release.

His arms held her still as he found her clit again and suckled. Her body flew into the night and shattered. Throwing her head back, Isabella laughed her release to the stars.

When she floated back down, Thorin rose from between her thighs and pushed her legs open wider. The panic returned as his cock pressed against her entrance. She was slick and ready for him, but he was so big.

Thorin lay over top of her, bracing his forearms to either side of her head. "Kiss me, Bella."

She slanted her lips over his, muffling her cry as he pushed inside her. Stretching her, filling her completely, he didn't give her a chance to recover as his thrust became a burn of pleasure-pain.

He felt too big. Too thick. Then he was seated fully within her and Isabella shifted her hips to meet his. His cock hit a bundle of nerves and the pain dissolved into a burst of sheer ecstasy.

"Bella. Beautiful Bella." He kissed her. "You are a miracle."

"I bet you say that to every girl," she panted.

He laughed. "Still sassy. I must not be doing this right if you can still talk."

To prove his point, Thorin withdrew before driving back hard. He set a relentless pace, the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh filling the garden as his cock fucked deep with each stroke.

Isabella clawed at his back, hips rising to meet each thrust. Above her, Thorin was carnal pleasure personified. The harsh lines of his face were drawn tight with hunger, hair plastered to his back as the strong muscles worked to drive him deeper and deeper.

He reached between them, caught her clit with a ragged finger, and the world exploded. Colors burst before her gaze until the only stable thing in the world was Thorin. He gave one last frenzied thrust before he followed her over the edge, screaming her name to the heavens.

Eons later, he collapsed over her, careful to keep his weight from crushing her. Isabella placed a shaking hand on the back of his neck, holding him close.

For a brief moment, when they were completely joined, Isabella knew where she wanted to be. After this, she would never be the same. Anywhere Thorin went, that would be home for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well look who finally managed to talk about their emotions. Gasp!  
> Lots of feels today and a little bit of smut.  
> As always, let me know what you think! Any guesses on the jaguar? (Besides, yes, he is Beorn)
> 
> And a very Happy Birthday to a wonderful reader, @kingdomhearts1994! I hope you have a wonderful day.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The secret of Beorn is revealed and Bella has an epiphany of sorts.  
> (Some NSFW in this chapter)

"Have you seen Bella?" Thorin yawned, rubbing the back of his neck as he meandered into the dining hall of the house. He and Bella had stayed out in the garden until just before dawn, and they sure as hell hadn't been sleeping. He had carried Bella to bed before collapsing next to her. When he had woken up, she was gone and nowhere to be found in the house.

If the cot hadn't still been warm where she had lain, he would have thought it had all been a dream.

Dwalin shook his head. Speaking through a mouthful of toast and honey, he said, "she left before breakfast. Gandalf and some large man were with her."

Or at least that's what he thought Dwalin said. Through all the food it was rather hard to tell. It was that or "She's in a crows nest. Grabbing schmucks of men near her."

Which Thorin sincerely hoped wasn't true. The only schmuck Bella was ever going to grab again was his.

"Right. Which way did they go?" He was guessing the "some large man" was their host. Thorin would need to introduce his men and repay his hospitality. He also wanted to get the story of the jaguar out of Gandalf.

Dwalin jerked his head toward the window.

"Wait a minute," Fili said, an undercurrent to his voice that made Thorin speed up. "You're almost smiling. You never smile in the morning!"

Kili narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "He's right. You look too happy for just waking up. Ma says you used to curse the air of Erebor blue when she woke you up."

"I don't know what you're on about."

Ori darted in front of him, blocking the door. "There's a scratch on the nape of your neck....only nothing got close enough yesterday to touch you and we didn't pass through many brambles. And," he leaned closer and sniffed, "you smell good."

Thorin's eyebrows shot northward. "Thank you."

"No, I mean, you smell like roses. We all took a quick bath last night, you went before me, and I used the same soap. I don't smell like roses."

"I know who smells like roses," Balin said smugly.

"We've all had her shoving the soap down our throats when she feels we haven't been bathing enough. Or washing our clothes. Or in need of doing dishes," Bombur grumbled. "She's bloody nuts about cleanliness, our Bella."

All twelve of them had shit-eating grins on their faces. Thorin sighed to himself. None of them had any concept of privacy.

"Oh, don't growl. We're just glad you finally got over yourself and bedded her. Took you two long enough," Gloin said in a fatherly sort of way. "We're happy for you."

"Thank you. But if any of you make any comments or embarrass Bella in anyway, you'll be scrubbing the deck for the rest of your life. Understood?" He made eye contact with them until each nodded. "Good. In that case I'll keep smiling just to unsettle all of you."

"Why would they find your smile disquieting?" Bella walked into the room, wearing one of his shirts as a cover over her walking dress. Lads knowing or not, had it been anyone else, Thorin would have been peeved at her lack of discretion. But it was Bella. Something in Thorin growled in satisfaction seeing her in his shirt.

"You shredded my chemise and corset last night," she murmured in his ear as she came to a stop next to him. "My spares are drying at the moment."

He nearly swallowed his tongue. "Y-you're not wearing a corset?"

Bella gave him an arch look and turned to the men. "Why is Thorin's smile disquieting?"

"We don't see it much. Until you came along of course," Fili supplied.

Dropping a curtsy, Bella smiled. "Always glad to be of service. Gandalf sent me to bring you all to meet our host. No, wait a moment. Our host, whose name is Beorn by the way, is a bit...err...of a recluse. He doesn't like crowds. So you are to come out in pairs, five minutes apart. Thorin, you come first with me. Understood?"

They followed her to the front door where the rhythmic sounds of conversation could be heard from beyond the walls. This Beorn fellow had the deepest voice Thorin had ever heard.

"My lady." Thorin offered his arm.

She settled her fingertips in the crook of his elbow, gave the men one last warning to wait between each arrival, and murmured as they began to walk, "I'm sorry about your shirt. If I had any other option, I wouldn't have been so blatan-"

Thorin stopped her with a kiss. It was more of a brief salute of her lips than a real embrace, but when he pulled away, her gaze had gone smoky, opalescent fire beginning to spark. "The shirt is yours."

Muffled hoots and cheers came from behind them, turning Bella's cheeks an adorable shade of pink. "Thank you. Come on, I told Beorn I'd hurry."

"What is he like?" Thorin escorted her out of the door.

The cobbled path beneath their feet led out into a an open yard Thorin hadn't been able to appreciate yesterday. Flowers bloomed in a wild chaos of colors next to him. A low stone wall, covered in lichen and moss, segregated the goats who gazed curiously at them as they chewed placidly on their breakfast. The nickering of horses came from somewhere nearby though Thorin didn't see a barn.

Gandalf, easily identifiable in his gray robes against the backdrop of green, stood at the edge of the path, talking to a man nearly half again as tall.

Beorn wore only a pair of loose cotton breeches, revealing teak skin stretched taught over a muscular chest and shoulders as broad as that of an axe handle. Wild black curls exploded from his head, falling nearly halfway down his back. He rested one foot casually on a bench, propping up his chin negligently on his hand.

Spiced honey eyes widened in comical shock as he caught sight of them. His voice was deep and rough enough to suit his massive stature. An accent, something lyrical and full of power, wove through his words. "Little bunny! I was beginning to think you had been lost."

Thorin snorted, trying not to laugh at the horrified expression that flittered across Bella's face. She elbowed him hard in the ribs. "Not a word."

"I wouldn't dare. Just remind me to make sure we have adequate carrot supplies on the ship before we depart."

Bella gave him a thunderous frown before turning back to Beorn. "Simply dealing with recalcitrant pirates. Beorn, this is Captain Thorin Durinson."

"Ah, yes. You are the one they call Oakenshield," Beorn rumbled. "Normally I would take offense at having a pirate in my house, but little bunny here spoke for you. Come, sit. Gandalf is telling the story of your adventures in Goblin Town. I'm curious to see how you survived."

Obediently they sat, Thorin stifling his laughter at Bella's growing exasperation at her new nickname. Gandalf picked back up the tale of how he found them in before the Great Goblin in the sea caves.

"And then he the Great Goblin counted the four of them and saw that while bound, they still posed a threat. He mocked and tormented them-"

"Wait a moment," Beorn interrupted. "The last time I checked, two did not make four by itself."

Just then, Balin and Dwalin came out and bowed to Beorn. After introductions, they joined them at the table and Gandalf once again started to speak.

Clever, Thorin mused as the cycle repeated itself again. Gandalf had waited to introduce them to their recalcitrant host until Beorn became invested in the story. He didn't mind finding thirteen pirates in his house as long as they had an interesting tale behind them. Beorn, it seemed, hated Mordor and all its associated filth, even the obnoxious Goblins, as much as the pirates did.

Bella leaned against him as the tale wore on. Thorin wrapped an arm around her waist, fingers slipping between the folds of the shirt to meet the warm flesh of her hip. Stroking the soft skin gently with his thumb, he marveled at the change these past few weeks had brought.

A fortnight ago Thorin might have considered tumbling Bella, but last night had not been just a quick fuck. Today though, he couldn't imagine the day without her by his side.

Somehow, inexplicably, she had become his conscience, his laughter, his hope.

"Thorin," Bella murmured, turning her head so her mouth was by his ear.

"Hmm?"

Gandalf was wrapping up their tale, nearly to the part where Bella had stumbled out of the sea cave. The crew, finished with the meal and the wonder of Beorn wearing off, had started to amble about the garden, leaving the four of them on the bench.

"Have you talked to your nephews recently?"

"Just this morning. Fili told me that-"

"No, I mean really talked to them." She tapped her fingers on his thigh. Thorin gritted his teeth and tried to pay attention to the conversation. If her hand moved any higher, he wouldn't be responsible for his actions, audience or no.

"Why?"

She shrugged. "I think they're more worried than they let on. Both respect you to the ends of the earth. I think if you spoke to them, it might help."

Thorin frowned, nuzzling the top of her head. "Worried about what?"

"That is yours to discover, O Captain." Her teeth scrapped deliciously over his chest. "As are many other things."

A smile tugged at his mouth. "Is that an invitation, my lady?"

Bella sat up as Gandalf ended the story and gave him a Siren's look. "Is it?"

"I think we shall reconsider your options after a meal." Beorn clapped his hands. The bushes around them rustled and goats emerged. They watched Beorn for a moment before they disappeared into the house.

Well, then. See something new everyday.

Balin watched them go, a furrow between his brows. "That's very kind of you, sir, but we have a few questions. The panther we saw yester-"

"After sustenance," Beorn interrupted. "I will not talk of serious matters on an empty stomach. One must have priorities and jun is food, ka'i is talk."

"I think I'm still full from the first meal, but I'm sure I could munch on something more," Bella said as she stood. "You keep a full table, my lord."

"It is open to you any time, little bunny."

A great cackle of laughter came from the direction of Thorin's nephews. He sent them a glare that he then turned on Beorn. Their host was acting a little too besotted with Bella for his comfort.

"Thank you. I think I'll wander through the gardens. What sort of plants do you have?" She took his extended elbow and they walked into the house after the goats.

Thorin's fists curled against his legs as he watched. _Get your hands off of her._

"Jealous already?" Dwalin laughed as he passed. "Moving a bit quick, aren't we?"

"Says the man whose best friend is his right hand," Thorin shot back. He watched his nephews file past, noticing the tension in Fili's shoulders and Kili's smile. Mahal, maybe Bella was right. Though how had she noticed before him? They were his kin. His heirs.

They had as much stake in Erebor as he did. At least he remembered what it had been like, how much it was worth it. All they had were stories.

He ran a hand through his hair thoughtfully. He would have to approach them in private and phrase it carefully. They were still young enough that any attempt at reassurance might hurt their egos.

_"You look after my boys, Thorin." Dis warned him, a beseeching look in her dark eyes despite the iron in her tone. "If you let them come to harm, I will make sure you never see another day of rest."_

_"I'm related to you, I don't know what rest is." He kissed her brow and stepped back, swinging his bag onto his shoulders. "I'll take care of them when they can't do so themselves. Don't worry, Dis. You raised them well."_

_"Damn straight I did." She bit her lip, watching the lads load the ship. "You three are all I have in this world, Thorin. Promise me you'll come back_."

"Thorin?" Bella appeared again at his side, a hand on his arm. Her opalescent eyes turned to silver worry.

Shaking himself, he realized he had been standing by himself in the yard, lost in the memory. "I didn't promise her. I couldn't."

Bella cocked her head, inviting him to explain.

"My sister, Dis. She wanted me to promise we would all come home alive. But how could I?"

"Oh, Thorin." She stepped closer and wrapped her arms around his waist, settling her head on his chest. "You carry so many burdens. Life is uncertain. You sister knows this. She also knows that there is no one more capable at handling the vicissitudes of life than you are. We'll all come through this. I won't let anything happen to you or the crew."

"You can't know that," he said, refusing to fall easily into the comfort she offered.

"Of course I can. I'm all knowing." She smiled up at him.

There was such tenderness in her gaze that Thorin couldn't speak. He just shook his head and kissed her.

Bella stood on her toes and responded. She curled her arms around his neck, pressing closer and closer. He sank into the oblivion she could bring. There was no room for tender words this morning. Only raw lust.

"Back garden," he snarled, ripping away from her. There were too many windows here.

Bella shook her head as her lips nibbled along his stubble. "Forest is closer."

That startled a chuckle out of him. "Insatiable minx."

"Are you complaining?" She called over her shoulder. Enchanted by the sway of her hips, Thorin stood rooted to the spot for several heartbeats before he came to his senses.

He jogged after her. Catching her at the tree line, he spun her around and trapped her against the trunk. With a quick look to make sure they weren't easily visible from the house, Thorin stepped between her legs and reclaimed her mouth. Bella moaned in welcome. She wrapped her legs around his waist.

"Bella. Bella," he murmured against her lips, "I can't go slow. Not this time."

"I never asked you to." Her hands tugged and pulled at his shirt. When her questing fingers met his flesh, he growled.

Pressing her back into the tree, Thorin fought his way through the yards of fabric around her waist. Frustrated when he couldn't find her bare skin, Thorin balled up the soft linen and tore.

"Hey! This was my favorite dress!"

"I'll buy you a new one."

Somehow, miraculously, she was wet and ready for him. He fumbled with the ties on his breeches. The head of his straining cock had just reached her warmth when a call came from the house.

"Bella? Thorin? Food's almost gone."

Bella turned her head. "W-we're coming."

Unable to stand it any longer, Thorin thrust up into her. Mind exploding in ecstasy as she clenched tight around him, he froze. Bella froze as well, a mixture of pleasure and pain on the edges of her gaze.

"Mahal, Bella. I'm so sorry. I had to be in you," he whispered, teeth clenched. He knew he should move, allow her to adjust, but he couldn't make himself give up one centimeter of her luscious, tight heat.

"Thorin...Now. Hard." Bella rolled her hips, sinking farther onto his cock.

Stars and stones, this woman was a miracle. Thorin steadied her in his arms, careful to keep her back from scraping against the bark as he began to pump. He gritted his teeth, pulling hard on his control. Each time he forced his way into her tight sheath, he was on the edge of losing it.

Bella writhed against him as the pleasure rose. Thorin thrust into her, harder and harder until he couldn't tell where he ended and she began. They fought each other and the ecstasy, rising higher and higher....

With a silvery peal of laughter over a muffled scream, Bella came. Her pussy clamped down so hard on his cock, Thorin swore he saw stars. "BELLAA!"

Sanity returned slowly. Somehow they were both still alive, though Thorin was half convinced he should die now because surely nothing would ever be that good again.

"I must be heavy," Bella murmured against his neck.

Fairly amazed she could speak, Thorin merely shook his head and kissed her.

"You're going to have to go get me a new dress. I can't walk in there like this," she said as he carefully set her back down. Somehow he had ripped the whole front of her skirt off. Her legs were bare all the way up to her thighs. When she braced herself against the wobbling of her knees, he could see the honeyed curls over her...

Swallowing hard before he lost his train of thought, Thorin brushed a kiss over her forehead. "Maybe I'll just bring you another one of my shirts. I like seeing you in my clothes."

"You're a caveman." She laughed.

"When we defeat Smaug, you are going to have the finest silk robes from the East. Only the best for your beautiful skin," he promised, nibbling the edge of her ear.

"One of my dresses will work just fine for now." She gave him a little push. "But remember, my favorite color is green."

Chuckling, Thorin reluctantly left her side to find her bags. Once she was properly clothed again, they met the rest of the crew already happily immersed in the midday meal at the enormous table.

Keeping Bella tight to his side, Thorin filled a plate with honey and bread and fruit he had never seen before. She curled her feet up on the bench, bracing a hand on his thigh as she turned to talk to Beorn. They didn't look too cozy, but Bella was never far. It was enough to keep a slightly smug smile lurking on the corners of his mouth.

"Beorn, may I ask you a question?" Bella prompted when the last bite had been eaten.

Engrossed in watching the highly trained goats clear the table, Thorin wrenched his attention back to their host. How the hell did the goats learn to grasp the plates in their mouths and take them to the sink?

"Little bunny?"

"Yesterday, we saw a jaguar. Are they common on the islands?"

Forks paused in mid-air around the table as Beorn considered the question. Ori's eyes darted between their burglar and host. Gandalf leaned back and considered them, tapping tobacco into his pipe.

"I wouldn't say so. My kind is more common to the mainland. You would call our home Peru, but to us it is Tawantinsuyu," he said after a moment.

"Your kind?" Bella sat up straighter.

"Yes. I am one of the last of an ancient order. We protect our homeland and seek revenge on those who spread evil. There are some who call us nagual," Beorn said, a hint of dark pain in his voice.

Thorin felt a terrible ache in his gut. He knew what it was like to be utterly alone, full of despair, and drowning in his need for revenge. It was a terrible void of emotion he would not wish on anyone.

"One of the last?" Fili asked at the same time Bella said "nagual?"

"I fail to see how that wasn't clear," Gandalf muttered.

"It is clear, in myth. I've heard tales of naguals," Gloin said, chewing absently on a piece of honeycomb. "The natives say they were men pushed to the edge of reason and beyond. All the way into magic. They can shape shift into the forms of jaguars to fulfill their oaths of vengeance. Others say they are evil witches who drink the blood of innocents."

Beorn turned an unamused glare on the pirate. "We are not witches."

"Er...excuse me." Bella tapped her fingers on the edge of the table. "Magic is a-"

"Careful, child mine. Do not close your eyes to new concepts." Gandalf rapped her on the head.

"Ouch! Godfather, I am trying to be openminded. But this is magic he's talking about. That's just ridiculous." Bella turned to the crew. "Isn't it?"

Dwalin and Thorin exchanged a look.

Magic. It was a word that left a bitter taste on his tongue. Everything he had ever read and been told rebelled against the idea. Science and mathematics were the order of the day. And yet....

Thorin had seen many things that defied explanation. There had always been rumors that the gold of Erebor was cursed. That the heart of the mountain itself brought only agony to its holder. How could logic deny what had happened to their family?

"Thorin? You can't believe this. There are things we can't explain, but magic..." Something close to fear flickered in her green flecked gaze.

Interlacing their fingers, he gave her a reassuring smile. "'Faith consists in believing when it is beyond the power of reason to believe.'"

The corner of her mouth quirked. "Not fair, throwing Voltaire at me."

"Did it help?"

"Maybe. Beorn, I am sorry, but..."

The large man watched the goats for a while. "You have too sharp a mind to accept something on the word of others alone, little bunny. Very well. Would you like some proof?"

Bella's demure side kicked in as their host slowly gained his feet. "Oh, no my lord. I don't want to put you to any trouble."

"Nonsense." He ripped off his breeches in one quick motion. Before Thorin could do more than think to yank Bella's head to the side, skin had turned to thick, dark fur. Between one blink and the next, the man became a jaguar the size of a bear.

"That's....That's not possible," Fili gasped.

The jaguar hopped up onto the bench and allowed them to touch his muscled flanks. Thorin's hand trembled as he felt the soft fur. It was a whimsical thought to entertain the notion of magic, but to have proof thrust in your face was quite another.

How could he, an ordinary man, battle forces beyond his reckoning?

Beorn jumped off the bench and shifted back to human form. He casually donned his breeches and sat back down. "I assure you, lad, this is completely possible."

"What made you choose such a lifestyle? Nothing comes without a cost and I don't believe magic is any different," Bella murmured. Her voice sounded strained, but she seemed to be taking this well.

"No, nothing is free," Beorn agreed heavily. "My magic has come at the cost of my family, my home, my love. The Orcs of Mordor Inc. have much to answer for, and it will be my distinct pleasure to bring them their dues."

 

Isabella struggled not to gape at Beorn. There was no denying what she had just seen, but magic!

Such things had their place in stories and books and maps. Not in the real world. Sure, there had been rumors that the man behind Mordor wielded more than just financial power and that Smaug had conquered Erebor with fire hotter than any mortal could ever make. But those were just stories!

Weren't they?

A horrible thought struck Bella. She slipped a hand into the pocket at her hip. The cold, solid weight of Gollum's ring sat coolly in her palm. Gollum hadn't been able to see her when she put it on. Neither had Beorn the other day when he had been in jaguar form.

Could the ring be magic as well?

 _"BAGGINSES! THIEF! WE HATES IT FOREVER! CURSE YOU!"_ Gollum had sounded almost mad in his desperation. Perhaps the ring's magic was addictive.

Her fingers began to shake. Oh no.

What had she done?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll move them along in the next installment. I just wanted to introduce the topic of magic here.  
> And, I've had a bit of writer's block. Hopefully now that life is calming down a bit, I can get some more written. 
> 
> Feel free to let me know what you think!


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew bids goodbye to Beorn and come to Mirkwood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had several people ask if there is any fan art associated with this work. At the moment, the answer is no. But you have my permission! I, unfortunately have less talent in art than I do singing and I've been asked never to even sing Happy Birthday again. 
> 
> However! If anyone is feeling artistically inspired by our two loveable pirate idiots, please feel free to draw or paint to your heart's content! If you send me the link I'll promote it and you on here.

Recovering at Beorn's was a bittersweet time for Isabella. It was glorious to sleep in a real bed every night and have both feet firmly on the ground. Thorin was more relaxed than she had ever seen him, revealing a playful, laughing side when they were alone. She treasured each moment with him, well aware their time at the oasis wouldn't last.

Beorn took her on long walks each morning, demonstrating more of the magic in the world, and, piece by piece, revealing more of his own fascinating, blood-drenched tale. It was a hard pill to swallow, realizing that she was completely unprepared and defenseless in this hidden world. Still, magic had started to fade from their world due to the growing prevalence of technology. And though she barely understood it and feared it, Isabella knew she would mourn its loss if it was responsible for such wonderful people as Beorn.

As happy as she was there, Isabella knew Durin's Day was fast approaching. They couldn't afford to stay in one place for too long. The morning of their departure dawned bright and clear. Repacking her bags, Isabella carefully tucked in her repaired clothes and gave one last, longing look at the bed. It was back to the rocking, heaving waters for them. Beorn was lending them rowboats to reach the shipyard.

Gandalf and Beorn were deep in conversation as they walked to the harbor. Isabella had bid goodbye to the goats and the gardens this morning. Beorn had given her many tips for her garden back at Bag End and she couldn't wait to once again immerse her hands in good, rich dirt.

Five rowboats lined the shore. Rope dangled from each bow and there were no oars in sight.

Gandalf caught Isabella's frown. "No goats this time, child mine."

She looked at him in fond exasperation. "You don't say."

"Should you ever be in need, little bunny, I will come." Beorn kissed her brow.

"Thank you, my lord. One day I will find a way to repay your hospitality." She smiled and let Fili help her into a rowboat.

"Oakenshield." Beorn traded grips with Thorin. "I am still not fond of pirates. You have little respect for lives you deem less worthy. However, you and your crew have shown me that pirates have large hearts behind hard skulls. Our paths diverge here, but I will see you again, I feel. Both of us have sworn vengeance against the Orc filth."

"Aye." Thorin inclined his head deeply. "Vengeance and death. But there must be life and friendship as well to balance out the pain and grief that is to come. When Erebor is rebuilt, I would be honored to have you as a guest."

Beorn considered him for a long moment before he bowed. "The honor will be mine, King Under the Mountain." As they shook hands again, Beorn said something to Thorin Isabella didn't catch. Something that made Thorin frown, but nod.

Curious, she waited until they had cast off from shore before she poked him in the ribs. "What did he say?"

"Ouch! Nosy aren't we, my curious cat?" He caught the rope at the bow and flicked it once.

Five dolphins popped their heads out of the clear water, intelligent eyes watching them closely. Beorn called something in another language and the dolphins took the ropes into their mouths and began to swim, pulling the boats along at incredible speed.

Laughing in wonder, Isabella leaned over the side, letting her hand skim along the surface of the water. It was incredible! The dolphins swam so effortlessly, the boats didn't bounce about at all.

Thorin and his nephews began discussing various pirate families and old tales of Erebor. While Isabella found most of them fascinating--pirates are wonderful storytellers even when you don't know half of the people involved--she was short on sleep these days, and soon found herself dozing beneath the hot sun.

When the dolphins began to slow, she woke to the middle of a story. The sun was angled overhead, telling her it was several hours past midday. "--Dis says to me, 'Thorin, you utter ass. That is the one place a hammer is useless.'"

The boys roared with laughter.

Thorin grinned down at Isabella. "Eh, she was probably right. It never handled quite right after that and I could only ever touch it again when wearing thick, forging gloves."

She scrunched her nose. "I don't want to know."

"I've finally found a cure for your curiosity," he teased, rubbing his nose against hers. "Have a nice nap?"

"Very enjoyable." She swiveled in her seat, trying to get her bearings. The other boats had fallen into a line behind theirs. "Where are we?"

"We've come quite a ways north. Beorn said the fastest route to the shipyard would take us through Mirkwood," Fili supplied. "We should be nearly there."

"Mirkwood?"

"Yes. It used to be called Green Wood because of all the moss growing on the sunken ships, but an evil has fallen over these parts. I've heard rumors I'm sincerely hoping are the product of too much rum and not of reality," Thorin said, shadows beginning to haunt his gaze again. "The rum runners under that incompetent, faithless fool Thranduil occupy the northern part of the graveyard, but the rest is No Man's land."

"Hmm." At the moment, all she could see was endless open sea. "Well, at least it's a beautiful day for sailing. I'm almost enjoying myself on the water."

"We'll make a sailor of you, yet." Kili laughed. "You already swear better than I do."

She sniffed. "Don't be absurd. I don't swear."

"Bella, you've taught me more words than Mum ever did when she was cooking, and she burns food on a regular basis," Fili said, eyebrows nearly disappearing into his tawny mane.

Leaning forward, she placed her palms on each of their foreheads. "No fever. Follow my finger...hmmm...no concussion. I'm afraid I have to conclude you're both suffering from sudden insanity. A lady does _not_ curse."

Thorin nodded seriously when she turned to him before pulling a face at the lads. "Oh, I agree. Only, I'm not so sure about the _sudden_ part. They've been like this since birth."

Kili mimed throwing her in the ocean, for which he received a mouthful of salt water. That set off a water battle on their boat, Kili and Fili against her and Thorin. Thorin had the power behind his splashes while Kili was more accurate in his aim, so it was a fairly even match.

When the boys teamed up to send a huge wave at them, Isabella dove behind Thorin. The dolphins laughed with them each time they surfaced.

The fun was over much too soon. Thorin righted Isabella, still chuckling, and they all bailed the water out of the boat.

The uncomfortable damp of her skirts was worth it, she decided. Father had taught her long ago that laughter was often the only balm over the pain of living.

"Uncle?" Kili sobered. "When we retake Erebor, where does that leave Fili and I? The pirates might respect you, but times are changing. You heard Beorn."

Thorin sighed, resting his chin on a fist as he considered them. "You're right. Piracy could easily be erased within your lifetimes. The British Navy has sworn to end us. Many of the rum runners are leaving our shores. Mordor is an ever increasing threat. How can we survive rapidly shifting currents like these? I won't lie to you, it's not going to be easy. Pirates, especially our kin, are a rowdy lot. They resent being ordered about as much as they value loyalty. But I know you will find a way. That's the beauty of the challenge. It will take everything you've got: intelligence, cunning, ruthlessness, mercy. There is a path forward, one already laid beneath your feet. All you have to do is follow it to the best of your ability. Find shortcuts. Trip and fall flat. You are a Durin. No matter what, you will persevere because you already have when it mattered the most."

They stared at him for a minute, desperate hope etched into each line of their faces. Isabella ached for them. What kind of pressure must they be under? They were raised on glorious tales of Erebor and so recently had found out about their birthright. And yet, they knew nothing about being a pirate lord, no matter how much they wanted to be so. That sort of anticipation was a brilliant agony unlike anything else.

Perhaps sensing this as well, Thorin continued. "There are things you need to know. Certain branches of the family must be approached with an iron fist, others with diplomacy. There are tricks to dealing with the rum runners and the Five. I'll teach you. And you'll learn some on your own."

"You will?" Fili suddenly looked years younger.

"My word on it. We'll start today if you like. But you have to put every ounce of your will behind it. You as well, Kili. You'll be your brother's strongest and ablest advisor."

"We will, Uncle. Anything for family," they swore.

Anything for family. Isabella smiled sadly. She had learned many things on this adventure, the most important being that family was not always defined as those who shared your blood. The people who stood with you before the gaping maw of the monster simply to be by your side, that was family.

She was still afraid, nearly petrified, at the thought of losing any of these men. Isabella knew she was strong, but she didn't know if she could survive that. Losing her parents had nearly destroyed her. What would she do if she lost Fili or Kili or Thorin?

Shaking her head firmly, Isabella refused to entertain the notion. She would do anything to make sure they were safe. No matter the consequences.

But what would she do if they all made it through this? Would they want her to stay at Erebor? She and Thorin hadn't discussed it. Maybe she would want to stay, but she still had obligations in the Shire and Bag End to take care of.

She glanced down at where Thorin's fingers lay lightly on her stomach, arm around her shoulders, as he reassured his nephews. What if....

They hadn't exactly been careful, too caught up in each other to think of preventing conception. What if she were already pregnant with Thorin's child? Fear fluttered in her stomach, but so did joy. Isabella had never thought of having children. They were just another vulnerability. But a child with her curls and Thorin's smile?

Warmth expanded through her as she thought about it. An amazing, bubbly heat that left her giddy. He would make a wonderful father. Gruff, perhaps, but strong and supportive and loving. The child would never have a cause to doubt it was wanted in the world.

Yes, she thought, resettling against Thorin as he made a pleased sound low in his throat, one day, when the world was safer, she would would want his child.

"What if I fail?" Fili asked quietly, not looking at any of them.

"So what?" Thorin shrugged. Fili's head snapped up. "Without mistakes, you can never learn. I'm not perfect either. Sometimes when the stakes are high, you'll make the wrong choice. Maybe someone will get hurt because of it, but if you hesitate or don't try at all...there will be death and pain with nothing to dull the edge of regret."

"You make it look so simple. 'Make mistakes' can't be your philosophy."

"I think we try very hard to make life simple," Isabella replied. "We will try anything, lay down any type of brick to make the path straight, but Life isn't simple. And that confounds us. If we spend all our time worrying about it, we have no way to cope when the complications arise. But if we realize that Life is...is joy interlaced with agony, normalcy spiked with adventure, and confusion that fills the blank spaces of courage, we can found power in our fears as well as in our dreams, and come out the wiser. You must value yourself and your decisions for your perfect imperfections. If you could plan and prepare for everything, Life would be unspeakably dull."

***

Mirkwood. Greenwood. Call it whatever you wished, it didn't matter. This place was creepy, Isabella thought. Beautiful, perhaps, in its own way, but it was eerie nonetheless.

The crew stood on the rotting hull of a ship stranded on a hidden sand bar. The rowboats below them waited patiently to be dismissed. Beorn had asked them to turn the dolphins free once they reached Mirkwood, but Gandalf insisted they wait a few minutes until they had the lay of the land.

The limitless stretches of crystalline blue seas had been destroyed. Now, standing before them as far as the eye could see, were abandoned ships. Hulls protruded from the waves, angry demonstrations of grief, screaming at the sky. Driftwood piled up into mountains taller than landforms, next to submerged ships that had only had their masts above the water. It was obvious that there was no single path forward.

Apparently open water wound through the carnage for half a mile before coming to an abrupt dead end at wickedly sharp, wooden ribs hanging over dark voids lying just beneath the water. Isabella couldn't she see the end of the ship cemetery. On and on the depressing silhouettes of forgotten glory stretched.

"I'm going to send the Elves the name of my decorator," Isabella murmured, taking in the graveyard. "Distressed wood, bloodstains as artwork, tributes to failed campaigns...it feels too French for my taste."

Dori gave her an arch look. "My mother was French."

"Don't misunderstand me. I respect them. They've produced some amazing people and ideas, but am I wrong?"

He took another look and sighed. "No."

"I must leave." Gandalf charged back into view. He had been below decks as far as the water level had permitted.

"What? You can't leave now."

Grave blue eyes considered them. "I would not if I had any choice."

Isabella opened her mouth to argue before she shook her head. Gandalf knew more about the peril of their quest than any of them. He would not leave them unless something even more dangerous threatened. "Promise me you'll be safe?"

"I am one of the Five, child. I do not hold to promises made by the ignorant," he huffed.

Isabella just raised an eyebrow. "Who will annoy me with their meddling if not you? You may be one of the Five, but you are also my godfather. If you cannot fulfill a promise to me, then who is sacred to you?"

"She becomes more manipulative and feisty by the day," Gandalf said proudly to Thorin. "Definitely one of mine. Very well, Isabella. I will be as safe as I know how to be."

"Good." She, Thorin and Balin accompanied him back to a rowboat. Dwalin sent four of the dolphins on their way, but one remained behind for Gandalf.

"I will meet you at the overlook on Erebor. Do not enter that mountain without me, Thorin." Their gazes met for a long moment. Finally, Thorin inclined his head. "This is not the Green Wood of old. There is a malice here that will seek to enter your minds. You must stay on the path."

Malice. Pain. Anger. Isabella could feel it simmering just beneath the surface. A labyrinth lay before them. A labyrinth with a gnawing hunger and teeth.

Gandalf hopped into the boat. "Stay on the path!" The dolphin dove, kicking up a fine spray of water. He waved at them and then he was gone.

A horrible feeling of unease settled on the crew. They knew somehow that it would be a long while until they saw the old man again.

"Let's get started. Divide up the supplies. It would seem we're in for a hike," Thorin said after a moment.

Isabella tied the pack straps around her waist and shoulders, never taking her eyes off the gaping entrance to Mirkwood. "What is this place?"

"No one is quite sure," Dwalin said, who, like her, was unsettled by the stillness of the place. "It started as a cypress grove. They're one of the few trees to grow in salt water. You can see remnants of the forest in various places between the ships. There were sandbars that passing merchants learned to avoid, but occasionally a ship would crash. The captain always blamed it on something crazy like a random Orc attack or suddenly blacking out when they are perfectly healthy. No one gave them much attention. It was an obvious case of incompetence being blamed on the imaginary.

But slowly the shipwrecks began to accumulate. Whispers became more persistent of a blackness in the forest. Finally, there was evidence that not even the most skeptical could deny: the trees started to die. One by one, the cypress trees fell into the water. Only the territory of the rum runners seemed immune and they grew suspicious and wary of strangers, even other Elves. Now, these corpses are home to untold horrors."

"And we're going straight in. Maybe we should all be checked for sudden insanity." Isabella swallowed hard and straightened her shoulders.

"Aye, lassie. Maybe we should at that. Still, the Elves maintain a path through the wreckage. It's good for business to have one safe route. We'll keep a weathered eye out, but we'll make it through just fine."

"Dwalin, I appreciate the attempt at reassurance, but what past experiences can you point to as evidence that we'll make it through 'just fine'? Granted, we are still all here, but Goblin Town was a fiasco. We were waylaid by Trolls. Two attacks by Orcs. I think we have bad luck following us like a scorned lover," Isabella said.

"Right little ray of sunshine, you are," he noted. "I knew there was a reason I liked you."

A giggle escaped despite her growing unease. "It's part of my charm."

"Dwalin, lead the way!" came the forward cry.

Trading a glance, she and Dwalin stepped forward.

The path, marked at regular intervals by the emblem of the Elves--a star flower contained within a diamond-- wound over and through the wrecked ships. At times the footing was so unsure they strung a rope across the rotting wood so everyone would have something to hold onto. Though they were pirates, as in love with the sea as they were with the idea of Erebor, not even the crew wanted to fall into the water held stagnant in the decrepit holds of these ancient ships.

Most of the ships were empty, picked clean by scavengers over the years, but every so often they stumbled upon the gray-white skeletons of the unfortunate crew. The third time they passed such a skeleton, Bofur tapped Ori on the shoulder.

"What?"

"Should we lose the path, that's what we'll look like. Nary a bit of flesh on our bones. They say that when people get lost, they go insane with hunger. They can't escape the maze and they can't find the path again. Soon, their supplies run out and they turn on each other. Everyone gets eaten until it's just one, lone survivor left, gnawing on their bones. Eventually even he runs out of food and he dies, hands grasping, often just a few feet from the path that he can't see because of one log he's too weak to move..."

Ori paled until Isabella was worried he might faint. He gathered his courage and glared at Bofur. When the prankster had turned away chuckling, however, Ori hurried checked the level of supplies in his pack.

Isabella didn't blame the boy. It was hard not to panic when they had come only a mile or two in several hours and hadn't seen the sun in what felt like years. No matter what she told herself, she couldn't stop thinking about everything that could go wrong.

"I'll go first," Isabella sighed when they came to the edge of the next ship.

It was a familiar routine by now. Only a thin strip of wood connected this deck with the next along the path. Eaten by worms and corroded by sea water, it buckled under even her slight weight. She hopped onto the railing, centered herself, and darted across, hardly daring to look down. When she had reached the other side, the lads threw her several ropes which she fashioned into a makeshift bridge to allow them to cross.

Nori and Kili came over first. They disappeared from her sight instead of aiding her as she concentrated on helping Gloin across. When they reappeared, she saw they had somehow gained a skeletal friend.

"Shh!" Kili grinned as it made a soft clunking noise.

"Ori's going to piss himself." Nori said gleefully.

"We should scare all of them. I bet Bella screams."

"Hold this." Isabella thrust the rope into Gloin's hands as Ori made to cross. Creeping stealthily forward, she came up behind Kili and Nori who were focused on the man balancing over the water. Just as they made to raise the skeleton, she pounced.

"Ouch!"

"Up you get." She pinched harder on each ear she now held between her thumb and forefinger. They followed the direction of her tug, willing to do anything to alleviate the painful pressure.

"Bella! It was just a bit of fun!"

"What's the matter?" The crew was all aboard the ship now and Thorin came forward. When he saw the state of Nori and Kili, his mouth twitched suspiciously before he pulled a stern expression.

"These two nitwits thought it would be entertaining to make half of us have a heart attack."

"Were you going to use the skeleton?"

Kili nodded before the motion made him wince."Yes, sir."

"How were you going to do it? I might have waited until we were below decks when it's darker-"

"THORIN!" Isabella roared.

"I mean, horrible idea, boys. Very immature," he said quickly.

Harrumphing, she let go. "Precisely. I am sweaty and covered in woodworms and goodness knows what else. Do _not_ upset me."

"Yes, my lady," they said in unison.

"Wouldn't dream of it." Thorin held up his hands in surrender. Then he spoiled his sincerity by laughing at her grimace when Kili accidentally brushed her with a femur bone. "Not a fan of the dead, Bella?"

"Bones belong in graveyards at peace. Not anywhere near me." They gave her the heebie-jeebies.

Everyone laughed as Isabella got them all moving again, staying well away from the bones. She watched carefully as the men passed her. While they still looked tense, no one was jumping out of their skin at every little sound.

Good. She'd have to apologize to Kili and Nori later. They had unwittingly made a much needed distraction. If she appeared uptight or hysterical in the eyes of the men now, she didn't much mind. It was a small price to pay for the reduction in tension.

She put up with their teasing for the rest of the afternoon. Bofur stuck a hand through the earhole in his hat so he was "always waving at my favorite lady." Bombur made a drinking vessel out of the skull and kept offering her drinks. Even Oin got in on the joke, using the poor man's leg as a new cane.

"When his ghost comes for you all, I'm not going to lift a finger to help you," she told them.

"QUIET!" They immediately stopped talking.

One second...two...

Thorin exploded into motion. He threw her against the wall, wiping Fili's feet out from under him. Back slamming against the wood, Isabella missed death by an inch. A scythe dropped from the false ceiling, whistling through the air where she and Fili had been moments before.

What little breath remained in her lungs after the impact suddenly evaporated. She stared, wide eyed, at Thorin. "I-I don't understand. There couldn't have been a trip wire. We were at the end of the line." All the others had safely navigated the narrow room before she and Fili.

"We're being watched," he said grimly.

After that, there were no jokes and no attempts to lighten the mood. They crept forward, testing every plank and stone for traps before they dared to trust their weight to it.

Isabella, shaking with pent-up anticipation, eased her way out of a narrow opening where the captain's quarters had once been and hurried across the deck to rejoin the others. All of them had stopped against the railing and were gazing out over the forest of downed masts.

She knew at a glance they were in trouble. No one moved, not even a fidget.

She hurried over to Thorin's side. He didn't look at her, but he interlaced their fingers. His grip bordered on the edge of painful. "What?"

Glancing down at the next ship, she saw exactly what.

There were no markings on it nor the one next to it. No footprints or signs of any kind. Nor was there any way to reach the deck.

They had lost the path.

" _Fuck_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we've entered the realm of Mirkwood! 
> 
> I like the idea of Thorin being playful and a bit of a mischief maker. So I hope you enjoyed at glimpse at another side of him. 
> 
> At the risk of repeating myself, feel free to comment and let me know what you liked, what you didn't like, your favorite mythological creature or just say hi!


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The roads less taken in Mirkwood are trodden by pirate feet. They find these roads to be...well, less than friendly and inhabited by strange things.  
> Poor, poor pirates.  
> And we get to see a bit of Isabella's past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Check out what the wonderful WildChildALR made just today for the story. Nicely timed since I got ahead on writing with my multiple plane rides.  
> http://wildchildalr.tumblr.com/post/120409061257/a-quick-photo-edit-fanart-i-did-for  
> Thanks so much!

The ships had eyes. They muttered to each other in creaks and groans of breaking beams as the crew crept forward. While they had lost the path, Thorin was confident that if they walked west for a few hundred meters and then circled back, they would find it again.

Leave it to the Elves to let the one safe path fall into decay. And people called Thorin a curmudgeon. He might hate people on general principle, but he kept the paths to the Blue Mountains open no matter the weather or repair costs.

"Thorin?" Bella appeared at his elbow. An adorable wrinkle sat between her brows as she pursed her lips. "It's been two days, shouldn't we have found the path by now? We're nearly out of food."

"We'll find it." Listen to her being dramatic. It hadn't even been two hours.

The wrinkle became more pronounced.

"Look!" Bofur interrupted as he bent down, swaying dangerously on the rotted plank, and scooped something off of the ground. "A wine skin!"

"Brilliant! I'm dying of thirst." Bombur reached over to take it from his cousin, but Bofur danced out of reach.

"It has markings on it!"

"This is from the Blue Mountains," Balin announced as he got a good look at it.

Bofur gasped so dramatically, Thorin drew his sword halfway. "There are Dwarves in these ships! Dwarves from the Blue Mountains!"

Thorin spun around as if he could catch sight of these pirates. It would be wonderful to see another face beyond these men. Maybe they would have news of their kin. He could send a message home to Dis.

"Bofur! That is your wine skin!" Bella cried. She looked exasperated enough to wring his neck. "You dropped it. Don't you all understand? We're going in circles! There is something here that is making us hallucinate."

"What makes you think that, lassie?" Dwalin asked. He, like Thorin, had his hand on the handles of his weapons.

"Because I just saw all of you morph into very hairy versions of myself, Thorin seems to think we've only been here one day, and you, dear heart, are not wearing pants."

Everyone glanced down. This, it seemed was true, though Thorin couldn't figure out for the life of him why he hadn't noticed before. He _knew_ Dwalin had been lying about that, the tricky bastard.

The company laughed, momentarily dispelling the nasty slime that had settled over them. For a brief moment, Thorin felt a crisp clarity to his thoughts he hadn't realized had been missing.

"We are getting out of here. I don't care if we have to swim for the shipyard. I'm afraid of what this horrible place will do to us next." Bella gave Ori a shove. "Let's move. We need to go topside and find which way is North."

He followed her readily. Alarm bells had begun to ring dimly in the recesses of his mind. He was worried because he wasn't worried by Bella's claims. She was generally pretty sharp and not one for tall tales. But they hadn't been here that long, had they?

Thorin glanced dubiously at the next plank they had to cross. Barnacles covered one side while the other half was more wormholes than wood. It was doubtful that even Bella's slight weight would be supported.

Nor did it look plausible to swim. The water was oddly beguiling despite its murky nature. His instinct roared a muted warning that the distant part of his mind begged him to heed.

"I'll go first. Wait until I'm over before anyone else tries," Bella said.

"Absolutely not. We don't have ropes to help you any more,"he said, catching at her hand. They had been forced to leave the longest rope behind when another trap was triggered. It was grab the rope and lose your hand or accept the loss.

"There isn't any other option," she whispered urgently. "We can't spare the time to walk around to try and find another path. We need to get topside."

"I don't like it."

"I don't either, much," she agreed. "Do you have a better plan?"

He snarled, but let go. Here was another reason he should never have given in to Isabella. Horrible guilt swamped him each time she was placed in danger. He wasn't even a competent enough leader to guide them safely through Mirkwood. What the hell was he going to do in Erebor?

"I think the shorter rope will make it across. I'll throw it back when I reach the other side," she tried to sound cheerful.

They all watched with baited breath as Bella inched her way across. She had to place each foot with extreme care. After the first piece crumbled beneath her toes, she had taken to marking the safest path with charcoal to help the next person.

Halfway across...Two-thirds...Almost...Almost....She stopped suddenly, peering into the water. Her head began to list from side to side as if she were listening to a song no one else could hear. Leaning closer, she wobbled precariously on one foot.

"Bella!" he hissed.

With a jolt, she wrenched her attention away and shook her head. "Don't fall into the water," she said hoarsely.

Sage advice.

She vaulted the last bit and pulled the shorter length of rope from her bag. "Okay. Follow my steps and _don't touch the water_."

One by one they followed her markings until only Bombur remained on the other side. Perhaps he was less graceful than the others or maybe just annoyed that he was once again last. Whatever the reason, he took the plank with more speed than was advisable.

Plop! Bombur slipped on a wet section, put his foot through a rotted knot, and tumbled straight into the water.

"Fucking hell!" Bella slapped the side of the boat hard.

"Quickly!" Thorin and Dwalin fashioned a quick harness from the rope and tossed the loop over the sinking man's shoulders.

"What was that about ladies not cursing?" Kili inquired as he grabbed the slack end of the rope.

"What was that about you not wanting to get wet?"

"Pull!"

Everyone heaved. Inch by inch the fat cook emerged from the water. His chest still rose and fell, but his eyes were securely shut. Bombur was fast asleep.

They laid him out on the narrow walkway. Nothing they tried could rouse him.

"Oh, no," Nori said as Thorin rocked back on his heels. "No, no, no. I am not carrying this idiot."

"Thanks for volunteering. We'll take it in shifts. Nori, Bifur and I will carry him first."

Their enthusiasm for carrying him became even lower when they realized all of the remaining food had been in his pack and had mysteriously disappeared.

The situation had just become a lot more dire. If they didn't reach the top side of this ship, and Thorin was beginning to doubt what gravity was telling them on that score, to find the path within a day or so, they were going to run the risk of starvation. They had been on narrow rations for the past few days, not knowing how long it would take to get through and how long Beorn's supplies would last.

After they ended up in yet another cabin of this endless ship, they dumped Bombur unceremoniously on the wooden floor.

"This is ridiculous. You lot wait here. I'll go see if I can find a way up," Bella finally said.

Thorin bit his tongue as she kissed his cheek and disappeared into the dark doorway. She should have taken somebody with her. Someone to guard her back while she investigated.

But Bella was too used to working alone, even if she had come to accept the benefits of camaraderie.

So they sat in the dim chamber, metaphorically twiddling their thumbs. Thorin leaned his head back against the wall and tried not to think of all the ways she could be currently dying.

"What was that?" Fili jerked out of a doze, his gaze locked on the doorway behind Thorin.

He spun, drawing Orcrist. The shadows revealed nothing, but he could have sworn he saw a flash of white moving in their depths.

That couldn't be right, though. It had given the impression of something huge. What could be that large and totally white?

Great, now he was hallucinating.

They watched the doorway carefully but nothing more showed itself.

"Success!" Bella trotted back into the cabin, making them all jump. She frowned. "Everything alright?"

"Fine. Let's just get out of here," Balin spoke for them all.

"I have never heard anything sweeter. I marked the way to the top with my charcoal. Come on." The fresh air seemed to have done her some good. Color had returned to her face.

They dutifully followed her through three more oddly shaped cabins, two sets of stairs and across another plank. Finally, blessedly cool air caressed his face as Thorin found himself on a deck tilting severely to port. He took deep breaths, trying to purge the horrors below from his body.

"You're a miracle, Bella." Oin patted her fondly on the shoulder.

"Not too much of one, I'm afraid," she said. She rolled something around in her palm, the flash of gold catching his eye. "I think that's Erebor over there, but I can't tell how to get to it. There's no sign of the path."

He followed the line of her finger and saw a lone mountain towering in the distance. It could only be 10 or 15 miles away, but with what stood between them and it, it could have been 100 leagues away.

They plodded on for the next two days, hardly daring to stop for a night's rest. Sleeping in shifts, they were forced to fight off increasingly strange and strong creatures from sharks to things Thorin had no name for. Bombur had yet to wake, though his dreams at least seemed peaceful. A smug smile stayed rooted on his face no matter how many times they accidentally dropped him.

Dawn broke over the sound of rumbling stomachs. No one had had a full meal for over a day and tempers were running short.

" _¡Mira!_ " Bifur cried suddenly.

Thorin sat up carefully, trying to let Bella, who was curled up against his chest, keep sleeping. She hadn't slept for a full night in way too long. The dark circles beneath her eyes had begun to haunt him.

"What?" Oh, hang on. " _¿Qué?_ "

He pointed more vigorously. It took some twisting, but he was eventually able to see what Bifur meant.

Two ships away, a group of figures danced and sang, greeting the sun with quite the party. A red fire burned in the middle of their circle, illuminating discarded plates and half full barrels of food.

"Elves, do you think?"

Bifur nodded. " _Sí_."

Thorin thunked his head against the railing. Of course it was Elves. If their situation had been any less dire, Thorin wouldn't even have considered this, but what choice did he have?

"Damn it. We need to catch them. See if they can't help us."

Bifur frowned. He made a sharp motion with his hand.

"I know. I don't enjoy this any more than you do," he snapped. "Elves are barely worth the scum on the underside of this ship. But..."

His crew mate growled, but he nodded.

"Good. Wake the others."

Bella stirred. Thorin held her close, unwilling to let her go and start another horrible day. "Sleep, mi ina."

"You just told Bifur to wake everyone up," she murmured, stretching against him like a cat.

"Well, I like you best."

"You had better. I sincerely hope none of the crew has put their mouth in the places I have."

He was overcome with a coughing fit that did nothing to disguise her laughter. She squirmed out of his hold. "I think I'll go ask them. Just to check."

"Oh, don't you dare." Swiping her legs out from under her, Thorin rolled to catch her as she fell. He pinned her against the deck and claimed her mouth. Bella went pliant beneath him, moaning in welcome. The satin heat of her mouth exploded across Thorin's senses. His cock hardened in a thick rush as her tongue dueled with his. Mahal above, she was addictive. He would never get enough of her.

A loud cough jarred them apart. Resting his forehead on hers, Thorin snarled, " _What?_ "

"Everyone's awake. Err...should we come back once we've all starved to death?" Gloin sounded highly amused.

"No. Thorin was just making sure I was awake." Regret pooled in her jade gaze as she tapped him on the chest to get up.

Cursing Gloin in every language and way he knew how, Thorin gave Bella one more kiss and launched to his feet. "Let's go." The sooner they got to Erebor, the sooner he and Bella could have some privacy.

The Elves saw them coming one ship away. They paused their dance, watching, before they leapt into motion. Within minutes, they had everything packed until there was no remaining trace of their presence.

"Hold on. WAIT!" Dwalin bellowed. "Hold it!"

The Elves dove off the side of the ship.

"We need help! Get back here! FALSE BASTARDS!"

"Oh, that's diplomatic," Bella snapped before she raised her voice. "Please! Come back!"

They didn't so much as pause. Thorin grabbed a discarded piece of chain and chucked it at them. It clattered to the deck just behind the last Elf. He turned to give them a disdainful look before he scampered, too.

"Fuck!" Fili summed it up. "I knew Elves were no good."

Not even Bella could find a kind word to excuse their behavior. She shook her head at the sky. "Wait here. I'm going to climb the mast and see if I can't find the path."

"Absolutely n-" Thorin started, but she was already gone.

Dwalin sniggered. "Great listening skills, that one."

Telling him to shove it would be too much effort and take away from his concentration of watching Bella easily scale the mast. If Smaug didn't kill him, concern over Bella certainly would.

"Uh...Uncle?" Kili tapped him sharply on the arm.

"Hmm?"

"I think it might be best of Bella stays up there for a while."

"What? Why?" Thorin wrenched his gaze away to look at Kili.

"Well, I'm not entirely sure what to call them."

To be fair, Thorin wasn't entirely sure either. All that he knew was that they were huge, white and on top of them. He didn't have time to pull out his sword. From the time Kili spotted them to the time Thorin turned around, the formless masses were upon them.

The last thought Thorin remembered having was, _one of these days, I won't be afraid for my life for a full twenty-four hours._

 

***

Plans are a funny thing, Isabella reflected from atop the mast of the ten thousandth ship she had seen this week. Sometimes you follow them and everything turns out alright, other times you wing it and end up feeling silly for even trying to plan something.

Then, there are times like today. No matter how much you plan or work off the cuff, you are just...well, there was no other word for it. Maybe Kili had a point. No matter what you did, you were truly and royally fucked.

Isabella sat helplessly atop the wooden beam as the pirates were engulfed by enormous white blobs. They had come out of nowhere and headed straight for the crew. When they sloughed away, she could find no sign of the men.

Oh, oh this was bad. What on this lovely green earth were those things?

She slipped her hand into her pocket, idly fiddling with the ring. Well, what else could she do? If those monsters saw her, she would be of no use to the men. They moved too quickly and she had no idea how to defeat them.

With one more hopeless glance towards where the Elves had vanished, she put on the ring, clambered back down the mast and followed the creatures.

As she crept closer, jumping over a splintered beam, she was able to make out some of what they were saying.

"Juicy and squishy!"

"Bundle them up! Bundle them up! Let their flesh rot and grow sweet."

That sounded pleasant.

The idea of human superiority and power was being thoroughly shattered on this quest. Isabella had never realized how many things founds humans tasty.

The creatures finally came to a stop just as after the noon hour. Exhausted, hot and terrified, Isabella sat on the ground, watching the white blobs disgorge her friends. The men didn't move or make a sound, but she could just make out the rise and fall of their chests. A viscous, gray liquid coated them, sticking them to the rotting deck.

She sat there, in the shadow world of the ring, watching them breathe, afraid to look away as if it were her will alone keeping them alive. Having decided to wait until at least one of the blobs left to even the odds, Isabella could do nothing in the meantime.

Her mind wandered. Memories of Bag End with its cushy armchairs and full larder drifted through her mind. The gardenias would be in full bloom and the house would smell just divine. She could cajole Cook into making the most delicious peach pie, and while it was baking, sneak off with a fresh watermelon to battle the late summer heat.

Swaying side to side in the soft breeze, Isabella fell under the spell of the festering magic.

_One, two , three. One, two, three._

_The orchestra teased the light waltz from the instruments, the music no more tangible than the gentle summer night._

_Starlight caressed her face as Isabella twirled over the dance floor. In the arms of a faceless man, she gave herself over to the dance. The pressure of her corset kept her back perfectly arched as he spun her, the watching crowd blending into a glittering mass._

_Women in every color of dress whooshed softly past with their impeccably dressed partners. They exchanged polite smiles as they spun next to each other, two people in a huge crowd._

_Sweet acorns, how many more hours must she suffer? Despite the press of the crowd around her, Isabella felt incredibly lonely. It was not a feeling she enjoyed. In fact she avoided it quite actively, doing anything to keep herself busy and not reflect on all that she had lost._

_Self-preservation encouraged her to counteract her boredom. With every spin and every dip, Isabella managed to turn just a hair and filch a gem-laden necklace or a sparkling cufflink. Then, with a tug from her partner, she twirled away, her mark none the wiser._

_She didn't keep any of the trinkets. It was a shade too obvious if she wanted to keep up the ruse of Bella the thief without it being tied back to her. Instead, she amused herself by replacing one necklace with another. The unsuspecting woman would walk away from the dance, look in a mirror and gasp in horror. It honed her skills and kept her entertained as the woman or man tried frantically to discern how such a thing could have happened._

_Still, Isabella supposed it could have been worse. Other parties were unspeakably dull. This was one of the most anticipated parties of the year. The Viceroy of Cuba, the Honorable Lord Azog, was well known for his expensive and exquisite taste. He invited the gentry from all over Middle Earth. Women spent fortunes on their dresses and jewelry to make an impression while men quietly did the same._

_The viceroy spared no expense. The sumptuous dinner they just finished had included delicacies from all over the world. He and his son, Lord Bolg, wore matching diamond earrings in their left ears. Many feminine eyes were fixed upon Bolg. He was the most eligible bachelor on the island. His fortune was enough to buy half of the New World._

_The dance came to an end and Isabella curtsied to her partner. "Thank you, sir."_

_"It was my complete and utter pleasure, Lady Baggins." He bowed. What was his name again? She had danced with so many men, all of them same despite their physical differences, she had stopped trying to remember._

_"Will you do me the honor, Lady Baggins?" A rough voice said from behind her._

_Fixing a smile on her face, Isabella turned around. "Lord Bolg. The honor would be all mine."_

_His smirk grew as he led her back onto the dance floor. Though his grip was within the bounds of social norms, Isabella knew that she wouldn't be getting away without his leave._

_"Do you prefer him? His fortune and title?" Thorin strode through the crowd, no one registering his passage. A cold fire burned in his gaze as he took her in, draped over Bolg's arm._

_"Wha-" She gaped at him._

_"There is something I've been wishing to discuss with you, my lady," Bolg said, unaware the specter of his deadliest enemy stood at his shoulder._

_"Oh?" Isabella forced Bolg to turn so that Thorin now stood by her. "Thorin, you know that's not true!"_

_"What was that?" Bolg frowned._

_"Nothing. I was just complimenting Lady Ursula on her gorgeous train. My apologies. What were you saying?" She stared at Thorin in agonized silence._

_"I think you are in need of a protector. Middle Earth is quickly becoming unsafe for a woman as lovely as you. It would be my honor, nay my duty, to accept you into my life. You would never want for anything. What say you, Lady Baggins? Will you be my bride?"_

_Thorin pinned her between him and Bolg, whispering in her ear. "Faithless thief. I cannot believe I let you into my heart. You run straight to him at the first sign of trouble. Tell me, how long did you wait before you rose from my bed and walked into his?"_

_"I've never- Thorin, please. I love you!"_

_Bolg's eyes gleamed in triumph. "Excellent. You are mine, Isabella."_

_"No!"_

Jerking awake, Isabella began hyperventilating as she searched wildly around her. She lay on a fetid smelling piece of wood. No elegant ball gown cloaked her. Only ragged traveling clothes. There was no one around. Late afternoon sun burned the side of her face.

Pressing her face to her knees, Isabella tried to calm herself. _It was just a dream. Just a dream. This horrid place is messing with my mind._

She sat bolt up right. She hadn't seen anyone around her. Not even those strange white blobs.

What had happened to the men?

The ring had slipped off of her finger as she slept. It gleamed in the sunlight next to her hand. Scooping it back on, Isabella drew her sword and peered over the railing. Thirteen motionless forms lay below her. Their features were obscured by that strange liquid, but she could make out odd bits of clothing and beard. There was one blob, hiding in the shadows across the boat- _ship!_ Damn, she had been doing so well- muttering to itself.

"Thin meals. They must have been a while without food. Oh, woe."

With a silent prayer to the good green earth, Isabella gathered her feet and crept forward. She came up behind the blob as it spoke. Breathing through her mouth, she was afraid that each step was going to give her away.

A huge, sightless worm. Ten feet tall and half again as wide. A gawping mouth larger than her head chewed aimlessly on something she didn't want to identify while its nostrils twitched and sniffed.

Trying not to wonder what exactly the thing was made of, Isabella took a running start and leapt onto its back. She stabbed it again and again with her dagger, screaming incoherently. Its flesh seemed to melt away beneath her.

"Stings! It stings!" Writhing the worm tried to throw her off, but Isabella held on grimly. An eternity later, it stopped moving, collapsing onto the wood with a hard thump.

Cautiously, Isabella slid off the worm. The tacky substance stuck to her skirts and she could feel some of it on her face. All the authors who wrote about romantic adventures where no one got hurt and everyone was always miraculously clean, were full of it. She didn't think she had been properly clean since Rivendell.

"Sting." She considered the blade. "I rather like it. What do you think?" The blade winked in the light. "Alright, then. Sting it is."

Isabella ran over to the men. The slime came off like taffy, long, thick ropes stretching and stretching from their faces until SNAP!

"Bofur! Bofur! Can you hear me?" The pirate beneath her hands stirred sluggishly. "Come _on_ , man." She slapped him on the face. Remembering he wouldn't be able to see her, she tugged off the ring and put it in her pocket.

"Wha-what?" His eyes blinked furiously, trying to clear the substance from his face. "Bella?"

"Good. Get up. We need to free the others. I don't know when the worms will be back." The words had hardly fallen from her lips when she heard a shuffling from behind her. Bofur's eyes had widened to the size of dinner plates. "There's one behind me, isn't there?"

He nodded.

"Lovely. Alright. I'll take care of it. You rouse the others and jump in when it suits you," she said, more bravely than she felt.

They sprang to their feet together. As she darted for the worm, Bofur raced to the others. From the squelching noises, she was hoping he was making good progress waking them. Based on the size of this worm and the one behind it, she was going to need all the help she could get.

"Attercop! Attercop! You filthy vermin,  
Can't you hear your death sermon?  
Time's up! I'm coming for you,  
My blade will sting you too!" Isabella sang.The ridiculousness of it helped keep the fear at bay. Following the rhythm of her song, she danced around the first attack, slicing high on the thing's neck. "Attercop!"

Maybe that's what she would call the worms. It was as good a name as any other, she supposed.

The horrible taffy exploded from the worm, knocking her to the ground. The ring clattered from her pocket with the impact. It rolled forward, stopping halfway between her and the worm. Struggling and cutting anything she could reach, Isabella watched the worms come closer and closer.

Of all the awful, embarrassing ways to die. Eaten by a worm? What would they put on her tombstone?

Here lies Isabella  
Just as she met her fella  
She was eaten whole  
And the worm wasn't even full

Alright, she needed to brush up on her poetry, but still, it was a very inelegant way to go.

And there was no way in hell she was letting that thing touch her ring.

"AHHHHH!" She pushed up with all her might. The taffy stretched, enough play in it that she was able to stand and rip free. Diving forward, she landed on top of the ring, utter relief filling her as it touched her palm. She rolled over and stabbed directly upward.

The worm screeched with brutal volume. No sound made sense any more. Only that grating shriek filled her head. Dimly, she was aware of screaming in response, but she couldn't hear it. Tears fell from her face as her ears threatened to burst.

With a wrench, she pulled Sting from the attercop and rolled away from its flailing form. Breath came reluctantly to her lungs as she crouched on all fours.

 _Get up, Isabella._ She scolded herself. _There's still another worm out there._

Gentle hands helped her to her feet. Wiping away the tears, Isabella found Thorin standing before her.

He looked awful. White gook tangled his hair and five o'clock shadow. Ragged, gray half moons hung beneath his pained gaze. "Bella?"

"I'm..." She swallowed hard, launching herself into his arms. "I'm alright. Thank the stars, Thorin. I would never, ever do that to you. The man's an idiot. He didn't even realize I stole his earring that night. Please, believe me."

He held her at arm's length, peering oddly at her. "What are you talking about?"

"Nightmare." Isabella squeezed her eyes closed. She could still see the horrible betrayal written all over Thorin's face as she danced with Bolg.

"It's alright, Bella. I believe you." He must have realized nothing that made sense would reassure her. Instead, he bundled her close as the men poked and prodded the corpse of the worms.

"What did the worms do to you? Are you sure you're okay?" She tightened her grip around him.

Thorin made a pleased sound low in his throat. "We're fine. Just a little bowlegged."

Knowing they were still in danger, Isabella made to step away. Thorin let her go after a kiss that torched his mark onto her very soul. "Once again, you've saved me Bella. Saved all of us."

Caressing his neck, Isabella felt her first smile in what felt like eons stretch her mouth. "Not as much as you've saved me. I love you, crazy pirate."

He bit down with exquisite gentleness on her lower lip. "I love you, thief of my heart. Now walk away before I lose my sense of control and decency."

She tossed him a wink, making sure there was an extra sway to her hips as she went to help Bofur untangle the finally roused Bombur. How that man could make her feel safe when surrounded by monsters, she would never know.

"Will you invite me to the wedding?" Bofur sniggered as they tugged and pulled on the slime.

"Of course. You can hold my veil."

He laughed. "I'd be honored."

Just as they managed to haul Bombur to his feet, Oin sent up a cry. From nowhere, Elves had sprung up. All of them leveled bows and swords at the pirates' throats.

Bofur and Isabella were on the edge of the group, the Elves still advancing towards them. She took two quick steps away from Bofur and slid the ring over her finger. From the thunderous look on Thorin's face, diplomacy wasn't going to get them out of this situation. But secrecy might.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, sticking with the Caribbean theme, the spiders have become Liwa! They're South American evil water spirits in the form of huge white worms.  
> How are things going with you all?


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin realizes sass and diplomacy are not best friends while Bella is hungry  
> (NSFW in this chapter)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out what popped up on my dashboard the other day! It's pirate Thorin! http://hvit-ravn.tumblr.com/post/119541881073/commission-for-anyastradivarius  
> The very talented hvit-ravn made this and I think the coincidence was too strong not to share. I'm telling you, Pirate AUs fill a desperate need.

Thorin had a theory: All of the Elves were insane because they drank too much of their own rum. Especially the Greenwood Elves. They apparently drank too much to be able to afford proper lodgings as well.

Instead, they carved strange houses and halls from the sunken ships. Floating lanterns illuminated clear water beneath the arched bridges they were led across. The wooden beams of the ships had been teased and pulled back to life, forming balconies, archways, and secluded pools.

It was if they had entered a city out of time. The only light came from the lanterns, no hint of the world outside. The people wandering past had ageless faces with long blond hair untouched by frost.

So either living away from the weather and common human decency with more rum than was strictly healthy was the new magical cure for living indefinitely, or they were all insane.

"Thorin!" Bofur elbowed his way forward in line, earning many a glare from their captors and his injured crew mates. "Where is Bella? One minute she was standing next to me, and the next she was gone!"

" _What_?" Thorin twisted, doing a rapid headcount, but her curly mane was nowhere to be found.

"If the Elves don't have her..." Bofur whispered miserably.

Gritting his teeth, Thorin tried not to panic. Most likely, Bella had realized the amount of trouble they were in and disappeared. Become their ace in the hole. She was quick on her feet. That was what must have happened.

The other, less likely, scenario was, however, the one that played out in Thorin's head. Bella being swallowed by those formless monsters. Bella lying cold and suffocating in their slime. Bella dying alone because he couldn't get to her in time.

_Oh, yes. This is productive. Ignore your surroundings and focus on what you can't fix. Brilliant._

Wanting to strangle his inner voice, Thorin halted as their captors stopped in a large hallway. His men were led off to the right while Thorin was herded to the left and up a flight of stairs.

"My crew-" He began.

"Will be fed and watered," the Elf in charge replied. "You, Thorin Oakenshield, must plead your case before our king. We do not take kindly to trespassers and aggressors."

He'd show the smarmy waif aggressive trespassing when he rammed his boot right up the moron's ass.

Deciding it was in his best interests to keep his mouth shut, Thorin settled for a glare as he followed him up a winding staircase made of driftwood. They climbed higher and higher until they found themselves on a narrow platform, high above the rest of the unearthly city. A throne molded out of a living tree dominated the space, and a man sat sprawled across it. His guards inclined their heads deeply to the man, and departed.

Tall and thin, the man was all angles. He wore it well, long silvery hair playing off the sharp planes of his face, a wicked scar running down over his left eye. He wore a robe of spun silver and a crown of autumn leaves.

Thranduil, son of Oropher, King of the Woodland Realm. Leader of northern rum runners. And asshole extraordinaire.

How would Bella put it? Oh, yes. A real rat's bastard.

"You find your situation amusing?" Thranduil drawled, straightening in his seat.

"I find you amusing," Thorin replied. In a sort of pathetic, depraved way. However, since he wasn't completely throwing diplomacy out of the window just yet, he refrained from speaking the addition.

"Laughter is an admirable trait. I have heard of your coming. They say you're on a quest to reclaim your homeland and slay a veritable dragon. But I believe you have a more prosaic reason. Treasure."

Thorin's eyebrows rose. Thought he understood their pain, did he? "Perhaps."

A small smile twisted that smug mouth. "I thought so. I think we can reach an agreement of aid, Thorin Oakenshield. There is something in that mountain that I too desire. Gems of pure starlight."

Thorin said nothing, he just stared at him. How dare he! He wanted to help them now? After all the pain he had forced upon them, he tries to appear selfless? He could take his help and shove it.

When Thorin said nothing, Thranduil changed tact. "Tell me, Thorin, son of Thrain, why did you chase after my people?"

"We were starving and in need of help."

"And you attacked them, why?"

"I was delirious with hunger."

Thranduil gave him a flat look. "Why were you in my lands to begin with?"

"Looking for food and drink, because we were starving."

"And while you were attacking my kin, what was the rest of your crew doing?"

"I don't know, but I expect starving in the labyrinth."

Thranduil shook his head. "Very well. Have it your way. I don't mind. You will rot in our cells until your tongue loosens. Stay here a hundred years, it makes no difference to me."

The guards popped out of the woodwork, caught Thorin about the shoulders and dragged him from the throne room. He threw back his head and laughed. Thranduil was going to regret this affront. He would make sure of it.

****************

 

Isabella was going to strangle Thorin. All he had to do to get them out of here was agree to give the Elven king a few jewels. By all accounts, Erebor was swimming with the rocks.

But oh, no. Pride reared its ugly head and he couldn't even pretend to be polite. So he doomed them all to a dashed uncomfortable week- the men in the dungeons, and Isabella cursed to the shadow world with a grumbling stomach, eating only what she could filch from the tables of the surprisingly watchful Elves.

Well, she would say this for him. He sure was sassy. The whole starving routine still made her smile when she thought about it. Maybe she wouldn't strangle him just yet.

First, she had to get them out of this serenely decorated hellhole. Then she could act on her homicidal tendencies.

Isabella thought she had finally come up with a plan that had a slight chance of working. The pirates weren't going to like it, but that was their bloody problem.

Her problem, it seemed, was coming up with ridiculous plans. At the moment she sat crouched atop a precarious wine shelf while two Elves drank themselves to an early grave. It was some festival or another. It had been going on for two days and tonight appeared to be the pinnacle. The two men guarding the pirates had already gone through three bottles of wine.

Surely one of them would leave to relieve himself soon. How much alcohol could a person hold?

"Sssseee, tha's wha I'm sssayin'!" The blond one slammed his fist onto the table. "Doessn' madder if male or female. People are insec- insecu- doubtful abo' their ssskills in bed. Mos' are awful, but sssome are really goooood."

Isabella hid a snort. The man did have a point. Well, if the gossips were to be believed, he did. Thorin and Isabella had never had that problem.

After arguing the point some more (the brunette insisted he didn't have over confidence issues), the blond laid his head down and began to snore. The brunette laughed to himself, downed another glass of wine, and followed suit.

Finally!

Isabella jumped down. Well, alright, she half fell down, half jumped down. The pins and needles in her legs precluded grace.

Time to put her plan into action. She crept closer to the snoozing men. The blond had a ring of keys on his belt that opened the dungeons. So all she had to do was unhook the ring....Carefully! Carefully!...and ease it away from his body without the metal clinking....easy now, easy....Aha!

Clasping the keys tight to her chest, Isabella took one last glance at the men and bolted. She raced down the dimly lit steps to the dungeons. Her feet made no noise as she ghosted deeper and deeper into the hull of an enormous ship. Fish splashed happily in the water below the steps, greeting her wordlessly as she counted the doors.

Each man was housed in his own cell with a cot, pillow, and basin for washing up. They were fed three solid meals a day and even had break times to a coral reef so they didn't suffer from cabin fever. Isabella was curious how these Elves viewed torture. A basket of puppies licking your face?

She tiptoed past the cells, trying to find a certain pirate. The men were snoozing comfortably, their sleep unimpeded by a growling stomach. Maybe she really would strangle Thorin. Here she was rescuing them, and they were the ones with full bellies. Where was the justice in that?

There were many things Isabella hated in this world, but being cold and hungry were the top two. It threw what little equanimity there was in her temper straight overboard.

"-you didn't have to curse his son," Balin sighed somewhere nearby.

Thorin's deep voice answered, sending a thrill through Isabella despite her annoyance. Intellectually she had known he was alive and perfectly fine- well, physically, he was probably angry enough to slay a wild boar with his own hands- but hearing and now seeing him pace through his cell, just being close to him again, it was a relief she had no words for.

"I didn't curse him, I cursed _at_ him. There's a difference."

"Not when he is out best chance of getting out of here in time for Durin's Day. No, scratch that, he is our _only_ chance of getting out of here."

"Not our only chance." Thorin smiled. "You, dear friend, are forgetting out the lady of our company."

Nice to know she stuck in people's memories. Isabella waited for Balin to subside into an annoyed sleep before she stepped out of the shadows. "My, my. Prisoner of the Elves. How ever will you get out of this mess?" She jangled the keys at Thorin.

He reached through the bars and pulled her into his kiss. The cold metal of the door bars pressed uncomfortably into her sides and cheek, but the discomfort disappeared in the blaze of his kiss. Ragged breaths ghosted over her cheeks and nose as he pressed his forehead to hers. "You were gone. Bofur didn't see what had happened."

"Oh, Thorin." That quickly her pique with him disappeared. She at least had known he was safe and dry. He didn't have that comfort. "I hid in case the Elves proved less than friendly. I never meant to worry you."

He shook his head. "No, you did the right thing. How long do we have?"

Picturing the drunk guards upstairs and what she knew of their schedule, she estimated, "half an hour? Then we really must leave or else our escape route is closed off."

"Good. Open my door."

"Aye, aye Captain." Isabella had barely cracked it open when he jerked her inside and eased the door shut. "What are you do-Mmph."

His mouth descended on her, cutting off the flow of words. Thorin backed her up until she felt the rough wood of the wall behind her. Teasing and biting, he urged her lips open. The world spun slower in decadent moments as it contained only her and Thorin. Isabella pressed closer, wanting to share one skin and never having to worry about being parted from him again.

"You're going to have to be quiet, Bel. The crew's asleep, and you're a screamer."

"I don't scream," she replied only to have the words end on a moan as he found a delicate spot on her neck. "Thorin....we can't."

"Are you sure? Because certain parts of my anatomy and yours," he snuck a hand up her skirts. The fingers teasing her core came away sticky and hot, "would insist that we really can."

"Cad." She laughed.

She felt the shape of his smile against her shoulder. "Mahal above, Bella, I love your laugh."

He picked her up effortlessly and laid her out on the bed. Isabella waited for him to join her before she pounced. A dark chuckle reverberated through the cell as she rolled over on top of him, biting playfully at his ear. "If anyone makes a comment about this because they hear you...I will skin you alive, crazy pirate."

Thorin settled so she lay stretched out atop him, chest to chest and toe to toe. Catching a handful of her hair, he pulled her gently up until she was straddling him. "No sense of adventure in thieves these days."

In answer, Isabella braced herself on her toes and ground her hips against the rising bulge in his pants. Thorin's next breath came in as a hiss and his fist tightened in her hair, a sharp prick of pain in counterpoint from the pleasure radiating from her swollen lips and growing wetness.

He slipped a hand between them, ripping at the ties on his pants and her thin undergarments. Each brush of his knuckles against her had the pleasure ratcheting higher and higher in Isabella until she was nearly sobbing with the need for release.

Thorin placed both hands on her hips as she rose up, positioned herself, and sank down on his cock. Her breath caught at the thick invasion. Her cunt clamped tight around each and every centimeter. He was too big and she was too tight for it to be a smooth glide, but finally her hips met his. It felt as though Thorin was lodged all the way to her heart. It was too much. Too much. He was too big.

With a small roll of his hips, his cock nudged even farther inside her. She collapsed weakly against him. He thrust again as if unable to stop himself. His hands dug into the flesh of her hips, hard enough to leave marks, but she didn't care. They will be a reminder of being joined so completely with her warrior, of his face taut with concentration and glazed with lust.

She shifted forward and her body began to adjust. The bright flash of soreness dissolved into luscious heat. Isabella shuddered in pleasure, nearly drooling on his shirt.Bracing her arms on Thorin's chest, Isabella sat up and raised her hips, sliding off of his cock. When just the thick head remained inside her, she sank back, head lolling with the pleasure. She set a fast pace, riding him hard, cock sliding in and out of her pussy at just the right angle to make stars burst behind her eyes and her nails dig into his shirt as she needed just a _little bit more_.

"Yes, that's it, Bella. That's how I want you to fuck me," Thorin growled, hips slapping hers as he bucked up against her each time she sank down. "Gods, yes. I'll never get tired of fucking you. This is what I want every night. Only you and me in the world."

"Yes, Thorin. Yes!" She clapped a hand to her mouth to muffle her loud pants.

Thorin bowed under her, forcing his cock impossibly deep. "Come for me, Bella. Milk my cock and make me fly with you."

Isabella's orgasm ripped free in a burst of ecstasy. Collapsing over him, she rode the waves as she clenched her pussy tight around his cock, shudders wracking every inch of her body.

A strong tug pulled her head up so Thorin could stifle his bellow in her mouth. The feeling of him spurting deep within her sent her over again. Isabella moaned into his mouth as the second, gentler peak cascaded over her.

Slowly, Thorin released his hold on her and she unclenched her hands from his shirt. Holy....Acorns. It took several long minutes for cogent thought to return. Standing on shaky legs, Isabella had to support herself against the wall. His seed dribbled down her thighs, making the aftershocks intensify. All she could think about was returning bed and coaxing him back to hardness.

Gods, this was insane! How could she want him again after all that? Her body knew it needed a respite, but as she watched him stand and pull on his coat, her mind stayed firmly in the bed.

"Well," her voice was hoarse from her repressed screams, "I hope you enjoy this cell because there is no way I can think clearly enough to get us out of here now."

He laughed, catching her as her legs threatened to buckle. "Easy, Bella. We'll make it. One step at a time. Rest for a moment." Thorin frowned, gently tracing the line of her face. "Maybe I've been too rough with you. You're such a little thing."

Isabella harrumphed and nipped at his wandering finger. "Trust me to tell you when you are."

"Alright." Thorin rubbed his nose with hers. "If you're sure you're fine?"

"Perfect," she said truthfully.

"Good. One of these days, we're going to have all the time in the world and won't have to jump straight out of bed. I've been dreaming about every inch of your skin..." Another hot, drugging kiss that made Isabella forget about the peril of their surroundings.

"Swear I didn't hurt you?" he murmured as they held each other in the dark.

"Yes, I'm fine. Well, except that I am a bit peckish."

"Is that Bella?" Gloin's voice demanded from somewhere nearby as Thorin laughed. "Are you in one piece, lassie? Those worms didn't get you?"

"Never been better. Come on, I have the keys."

"BRILLIANT!" came Fili's voice. "Kee's been driving me nuts. He has the hots for an Elf."

Isabella blinked at Thorin who rubbed at his neck on a shrug. "You left a mark of your own, wild woman. Aye. And of course it's one who is on the wrong side."

"So, pretty normal for him then?"

"Yeah. Pretty normal."

Splitting the keys between her and Thorin, the men were soon free. She reluctantly let go of Thorin's hand to guide them down the narrow staircase to the hull of the ship.

"Bella! You're supposed to be getting us out, not leading us farther down!" Kili cried softly as they reached the lowest landing.

"I have a plan!" she hissed back.

"Oh, that's reassuring."

"It should be," she agreed. "Nice to know you're on my side. So who's the Elf?"

Kili went into raptures as he described a young woman with red hair and a certain disregard for authority. Apparently, even though she wasn't the greatest fan of pirates, she still stayed outside his cell door for most of the past few nights, talking about any and everything.

They wound their way through the ship. They needed to reach the east cellar, but of course, the dungeons were to the west. Each time she opened a door, Isabella was convinced they were going to find a group of Elves, all armed to the teeth.

By the grace of the Valar, however, they managed to reach the wine cellar without being found.

"Alright. Quickly, now." She waved toward a pyramid of empty wine barrels. "One pirate in each."

Each and every man turned an disbelieving stare on her. Thumps and stomping feet echoed down the ship. It would seem their absence had been noted.

"Please! You must trust me!" Isabella pleaded. While their hesitation was understandable, they couldn't afford the pause. She turned to Thorin. If he didn't trust her, she had no hope of getting them out.

"Get in the barrels!" he snapped without pause. "Or find your own way out."

The men hopped to. Isabella rose up on her toes to kiss Thorin thank you, earning several groans from the crew and a few cheers. She smiled against his mouth before she pushed him to a barrel.

"Aren't you coming with us?" Fili asked as she made no move to take a barrel of her own. Instead she was peering around the dimly lit room, trying to remember where she had seen that lever....

"I'll be right behind you."

The sight of pirate heads sticking out of tiny wooden barrels struck her as wonderfully comical. Laughing to herself, she padded to the table and finally found the worn wooden handle.

"Will you say goodbye to Tauriel for me?" Kili asked.

"If I see her." Which she sincerely hoped she didn't. That would mean Isabella would be needing rescue. "Ready?"

Bofur's hat flopped curiously out of his barrel. "For what?"

"This. Hold your breath." She yanked the lever down.

"Hold my- AHHHHH!"

The old cannon hutch opened and the barrels rolled down the slight slope and out into the ocean. Water splashed into the ship as the pirates were swept into a strong current and whisked out of sight.

Isabella spare a moment for a smile of triumph before she got back to work.

The footsteps were growing louder. Just another moment!

Wire sliced at her fingers as she tied the last knot. As well as her plan had worked in getting the men free, it had one major flaw as far was she was concerned. Who would pull the lever for her? The slat over the hole was too heavy for her to push open.

So instead of just rolling out of the ship of their reluctant hosts, she had to devise a strange setup to enable her own escape. The wire she now held wound up the side of the wine shelving, crossed over the ceiling, and wrapped around a small bottle of wine that she had suspended behind an empty pail. Before the pail was a glass orb, once a decorative feature, that was poised to roll down the length of the shelf and fall into a pressure plate she had rigged from the seat of a chair. Once the glass broke in the seat, it would collapse onto the lever, depressing it just enough to allow her to sneak through the hole.

Well, that was the plan at least. She was about to find out if it would work.

Fingers and toes crossed, Isabella gave a sharp tug on the wire and twirled to watch her strange machine work.

The bottle of wine was pulled back on the yank and then CRACK! it swung forward into the pail and set the orb to rolling. It gained speed slowly...rolling...rolling...it teetered on the edge...COME ON!...the yelling and footfalls were growing louder and louder....

CRASH!

"YES!" The lever depressed and the hole cover inched open. Isabella put her shoulder beneath the wooden slat, braced her legs on a full barrel, and shoved.

Just as the door opened and Elves came pouring in, she pushed the hutch open just enough and dove through. Her last glimpse of Mirkwood was of startled faces peering at her as her hair was whipped into her face and mouth. She made a mental note to tell Kili that she agreed, Tauriel was very pretty, before she remembered her promise.

Spitting out her hair, she called, "thank you for your hospitality! You have some wonderful halls here. And Tauriel, Kili says _au revoir_!"

Then a wave took her under and the Elves disappeared in the sting of saltwater.

Now all she had to do was catch up with the pirates she could no longer see and not drown.

Easy. Piece of cake.

Just as she came up for air, a wave broke over her head, filling her mouth with saltwater as the current dragged at her skirts.

Sweet Acorns, she hated swimming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't have too much to add to this chapter because it's pretty much brilliance already. Barrels out of Bounds is one of my favorite chapters.  
> So I decided to include Tauriel sideways because while I have some issues with some of the details of her character, I think badass female characters are always needed. However, there will be absolutely no love-triangle nonsense here. 
> 
> I just wanted to take a moment and say thank you to all my readers. You guys continually inspire and astonish me with your comments and taking the time to read this. It means so much to me. 
> 
> Since things have calmed down somewhat, I'm hoping to update a little more quickly these next few months so on to Laketown next!
> 
> Also, in other news, I'm learning Danish this summer and just realized that the word for spider is (edderkop), remarkably similar to Attercop! I had a complete nerd out moment today. :D


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The barrels wash ashore and it's off to Laketown! With a few complications along the way

"Ten...twelve...thirteen..," Thorin counted under his breath as his crew washed up onto the sandbar on the edge of Mirkwood. One by one they climbed out of their barrels and collapsed onto the sand. He had been the first to reach shore, and so had recovered at least slightly from the endless hours of being buffeted and banged about by the current. There was a ringing in his ears and lingering nausea, but compared to his men, Thorin was sitting pretty.

Fili and Kili likewise bounced back from the torment, though perhaps that was because they were young. As he helped pull Bombur from the barrel, Fili told him, "I don't think I'll ever be able to eat an apple again. I was torn between vomiting and being ravenously hungry, and the whole damned barrel smelled of apples."

"Don't tell your mother that. Apple pie is her favorite," he advised.

A flash of bottle green caught his eye. Wading into the water, he reached down and plucked Bella out of the sea. Her face was worryingly pale, but she was still breathing.

Carefully, he set her down on dry land. She rolled onto all fours and, coughing and choking, she spat out a lungful of water. As soon as he thought she might keep it down, he handed her the wineskin Bofur had filched from the Elves. She smiled in thanks and took small sips.

"Everyone alright?" There was a rasp to her words that he didn't like. The salt water must have torn up her throat.

"Bit bruised and spun around, but all in one piece. How are you?"

"Fine." She straightened and gave him a smile he didn't believe. When he raised an eyebrow, she shrugged. "I'm back on dry land. We're all safe. I'd say that fits the definition of 'fine'." The more she spoke, the more garbled the words became. She sounded as if an elephant was sitting on her chest.

Thorin pulled her close. If she were getting sick, he needed to get her warm and quickly. She had been pushing herself too hard. They all had been.

"Don't worry about me." She sighed and rested her cheek against his chest.

"Of course. As soon as you stop worrying about me."

Bella snorted. "Never going to happen. _Achoo!_ Thanbfully I bnow someding dat will cheer you ub."

"Unless it's your return to health in the next five-"

She pushed and tugged him around and twisted in his grasp. When her back rested against his front, she held tight to his arm around her waist with one hand and pointed with the other. "There."

"What? Bella, that's just a-" Thorin's thoughts scattered.

Across a long, narrow cove, over the top of scattered buildings of a ramshackle town, past ruins of a once proud port, there rose a single, solitary peak. The mountain was framed on three sides by water and led down to a sheltered harbor on the other. Thick vegetation covered its slope, lush greens and browns that told of life against the sparkling blue waters. It was all new growth, but it was covering the scars of Smaug's attack.

Though he knew it was impossible, they were too far away, Thorin swore he could see the front doors of Erebor, the sanctuary beneath the mountain. He could picture them in his mind's eye- elegant stone arches over doors carved with scenes dating back to Durin the Deathless.

Home.

The others had fallen silent, catching sight of the mountain. For a long moment, they simply stared and ached. They were so damned close. Resting his chin on Bella's shoulder, Thorin couldn't take his eyes from the mountain. The last time he had been here, there had been only fire.

_Dale bured. The front steps into Erebor burned. Thorin choked on smoke as he fought to get people out of the mountain._

_Even after they reached the gates, there was nowhere to go. Whole swaths of land were engulfed in flames. Smaug's attack had been calculated to kill as many people as he could- cutting off escape routes, torching ships. The Greek fire burned so brightly that not even water would make much of a dent. They would have to wait until it ran out of fuel._

_The acrid scent of burning flesh covered even the thick ash that fell on everything. Thorin saw men throw themselves off the cliffs just to escape the inferno. Their screams were just discernible over the roar of the flames._

_He had to get help. The Elves had surely seen the smoke by now. Scanning the harbor, Thorin could see hazy sails coming their way._

_Oh, thank Mahal. He would kiss Thranduil's feet if he would save Thorin's people._

_But when he got to the docks, Smaug's bellows of triumph shaking the very roots of the mountain, the Elves still hadn't made port. In fact...it looked as if they were sailing away._

_"WAIT!" Thorin bellowed after them, but he knew it was useless. They wouldn't want to risk any harm coming to their perfect robes and rum running ships, even if it cost a whole island their lives._

_And still all he could see was fire._

"We're close." Bella sneezed again. "Wha's dat townb?"

"Laketown, the remains of Esgaroth. Come on, little one. We need to get you warmed up." He wrenched his attention from the mountain.

Most of the men were still too nauseated and bruised to want to make the hike to Laketown. So Thorin, his nephews, and Bella struck out for the bridge that would lead them into town.

It seemed not even sneezing with every breath and coughing between words cured her curiosity. She insisted they share the story of "how people had been so asinine as to build a city on a lake in the middle of hurricane territory".

"I bet you got into worse trouble than we did growing up." Kili grinned after she asked them for the fifth time.

Bella laughed and, for a moment, all was right in the world. "We're probably pretty even. Thankfully I had very forgiving parents." In between sneezes she told them about hanging from a chandelier to keep one of the Five from noticing her snooping.

"It's a miracle you've made it to twenty-five," Thorin told her.

She gave him a cheeky wink. "Laketown?"

"Esgaroth," Fili told her, "was founded generations ago by the descendants of the Edain who came east after the wars with Morgoth. They had sided with the Elves against the evil tyrant, and wanted a place to raise their young in peace. Their leaders didn't know where to settle, everything in this area was wild lands. Erebor had been established, but the men hadn't had many dealing with pirates before, so they were wary. However, legend has it, one of the Edain had a dream. In the dream, he saw a glorious city-state rising from the waters on the exact place where an eagle landed with a snake in its mouth. So, they wandered farther and farther east and north in search of this hallowed place. When they were resting on the banks of the Long Strait, a young girl saw an eagle soaring overhead. The bird circled the lake for a while before suddenly diving. When she next saw it, it had a snake writhing in its beak as it rested atop a lone stump in the middle of the lake. And so Esgaroth was founded."

"Huh. Never in a million years would I have guessed that." She shook her head and coughed. "I suppose during the heyday of Erebor, this would have been quite the trading mecca."

"It was. You'll see all sorts of people in Laketown," Thorin replied. The back of his neck has suddenly gone tight, the tension sliding into his shoulders.

They were coming up on an outcropping of rocks cloaked in shrubbery. It would be the perfect place for an ambush.

Though they kept talking, the four of them grew more and more tense as they reached the rocks. Bella was the only one with a weapon, though he and the boys had stooped casually to pick up sharp stones.

It was a lovely day, the heat just beginning to rule over the cool morning. The breeze brought a delightful scent of jasmine to them over the saltwater scent of the sea. Thorin went first onto the narrow path that led below the rocks. Then Bella, Kili and Fili in the back.

"I hope you're not- _Achoo!_ -planning on subtlety here." She had to stop and hack up part of her lung. "Because I've never- _Achoo!_ \- feld less sneaby."

How could she make him smile even when danger was literally breathing down their necks? "I think you could still manage it, even with a cold."

"Hah. You've never heard the tale of Tom Bombadil. He was sneaking through the old barrows, tracking down some would be grave robbers. He was about to catch them unaware when he gave a great sneeze. Nearly knocked himself over and tipped them off. Luckily Bombadil is a powerful bloke and quite cunning. He managed to make the surprise work for him and did a good enough job taking care of the robbers that no one to this day goes into the Old Forest."

Kili spoke up. "We all have this idea of the Shire: quaint, quiet. Not much worth bothering for trade or strategic value. But you all are surprisingly fierce."

Bella put her hand just above Thorin's belt as the shoreline became rocky and uneven. She had lost one of her shoes escaping from the Elves, and though she assured him she had thick soles, he was worried about Bella cutting up her feet. Though her knee had finally healed, one more fall might injury her severely enough to permanently incapacitate her.

"It must be something in the water," she said and he heard her voice kick up on a smile. "That, or I'm an abnormality. My cousins certainly think so."

"I like your abnormality. You and Ma would get along," Fili said from the back.

"Yes. And remind me never to introduce you two. The world would never forgive me."

Thorin received a pinch for that, making him his smile widen. It lasted all of two seconds before the ambush hit.

Four Orcs dropped down from the outcropping, three more rushing in from behind. All of them had metal sticking out of odd places in their faces, snarls wreaking their expressions. And all of them had wicked knives and machetes pointed at their throats.

Orcs. Fucking Orcs.

Thorin had been hoping their jaunt through Mirkwood would have thrown them off the trail. Apparently not.

"Hello. Do you know the way to the nearest tavern? We're hopelessly lost," Bella asked, peering over his shoulder. Thorin backed up, keeping her out of their range.

"Bella, hush," he warned in a low voice.

"Fine. You distract them with your devilish good looks," she huffed.

The Orcs advanced, pinning them against the rocks. One of them got a little too excited and Kili had to fend them off with his rock. The stone pinged against the metal, making the Orcs laugh.

"Distract them from what?" he asked on a hiss, shaking off the shallow cut to his hand.

They had all of a second's warning before two figures dropped from the sky. The Orc corpses thudded to the ground, driving one of their fellows to his knees. Both corpses had arrows protruding from their eyeballs.

What the fuck? Had the other men caught up?

Thorin tugged Bella back from investigating as the other two Orcs above met their end. The three remaining let out horrible screams and rushed them. Bella pressed the hilt of her knife into Thorin's hand.

As he dove under the first strike and rammed the blade into the Orc's unarmored belly, he glanced back at her questioningly.

"You're leagues ahead of me in fighting skills. I know when I'm outclassed," she replied. An Orc slashed wildly at her as his charge took him past Kili, she ducked, stuck out a foot, and gave the man a helpful push into the rocks.

"I doubt you're ever outclassed, darling," he replied, slitting the Orc's throat as he stumbled dazedly back from the rocks.

"How did you know help was coming?" Kili demanded as they peered up the cliff face.

Bella shrugged, taking back her knife. "It is very hard to sneak up on me when I pay attention. Part of thief training, I suppose. Did you smell that jasmine on the breeze?"

"Yes. But jasmine grows all over these islands," he said.

"Jasmine does not bloom this time of year," she told him. "If there is one thing I know, it's my plants. Besides, I recognized the perfume from Mirkwood. It was the only thing I smelled for three days. Our saviors, my lords, are the Elves."

To prove her point, two figures jumped lithely down from the cliff. A man and a woman, outfitted for both travel and battle, nodded to Bella. The woman looked familiar, long red hair, strong, narrow features, sharp brown eyes. Kili's breath came in and stayed in with an audible rush.

The man was taller than all of them, built with speed and dexterity in mind. He also wore his hair long, though the blonde locks were styled differently than the woman's. His face reminded Thorin of someone....

"Hello, you must be Tauriel." Bella slipped past him to hold out her hand. "Thank you for your timing."

"Any time. I enjoyed your distraction." The women shook hands. "This is my liege lord, Legolas, Prince of the Woodland Realm."

"Delighted." Bella curtsied. "I truly apologize for taking advantage of you and your father's hospitality."

Sharp blue eyes smiled as he took Bella in. "It was our unwitting pleasure, my lady. Your presence gave rise to some interesting ghost stories."

Tauriel linked her arm with Bella's as they started walking, leaving the men staring at each other. "So, tell me how you found us."

Legolas and Thorin stared each other down, neither willing to be the first to move. It seemed the enmity between pirates and Elves had passed to Thranduil's son as well.

"You have a company of Orcs on your tail," the Elf finally said. "This was just the scouting party."

"Who is leading them?"

"Bolg was," Legolas spat as he said the name. Finally, something they could agree on. "But he was recalled to Gundabad. The Mordor stockyards are brimming with Orcs."

Thorin didn't want to imagine what that would mean. "Understood. We should reach Laketown by nightfall."

"Aye. That would be best. The rest of your men should be safe until then."

He considered the young man. Why would he tell them all of this? "Are you going to take us back to Mirkwood?"

"Those were my father's orders, yes."

Mahal, this was like pulling teeth. "But?"

"He is blind to the threat the Orcs pose. The sooner you complete the quest to Erebor, be it a success or a failure, the sooner we can resolve the threat from Mordor. If you all are in a position of strength to help us, then all the better," Legolas said.

"Huh." He could live with that, he supposed. "Come on, we shouldn't let them get too far ahead. Bella would storm the town singlehandedly if it meant she could have a warm bath."

Fili and Kili brushed past the Elf without saying a word, leaving Thorin and Legolas to follow in strained silence. He didn't mind the silence too much. Legolas was much more prosaic than Thorin would have expected, a trait he could admire.

They caught up with the women just as they reached the bridge. Bella let go of Tauriel's arm after saying something to make her laugh and nudged Kili surreptitiously forward.

"My lord, may I ask your intentions going forward?" she asked.

Thorin reached over and pulled her toward him. He didn't think for a moment she would ever be unfaithful, but something in his hind-brain rebelled at having her so close to another man. That same part of him purred in contentment when she interlaced their fingers and leaned back into his chest.

"The Orcs trespassed on our lands. I will not let that stand, my lady, even if my father seems to think it is unimportant. I'm afraid he's blinded by his love and fear for our people. Tauriel is the captain of his guard. She knows how to fight better than anyone this side of the Mountains. Together we'll kill the remaining members of the scouting party." Legolas nodded toward his companion.

Bella's eyes widened slightly. She had obviously picked up on something he had missed. "You two seem close."

"Aye." He laughed. "We were practically raised together. She was trained to fight while I was in my language and mathematics lesson. Tauriel's deadly with her blades. I mostly follow her around cleaning up her messes and trying to keep her from getting into bigger ones. She's like a sister to me."

"I'm an only child. I always wondered what it was like to have a sibling." Bella resettled. "Well, thank you again for your help if you are to leave us here."

Thorin's attention wandered as they continued to exchange pleasantries. Fili was leaning against a tree, staring up at the sky as if wishing a lightning bolt would come down and fry him. When Thorin caught sight of his brother, he rather understood Fili's wish.

Kili and Tauriel were talking next to Fili, and getting closer and closer to each other with each passing second. There was a ridiculous grin on Kili's face. He was saying anything and everything to make the redhead laugh.

"We had better break them up before all of our eyes are scarred." Thorin sighed, nudging Isabella forward.

She laughed over a cough. "I wonder if that's what people say about us?"

"Oh, no. You two are a delight compared to these idiots," Fili grumbled as they approached.

"That's terribly unfair," Tauriel said, flipping a blade back into its sheath. "I am always a delight, even with this one added to the equation. Ready, my lord?"

Legolas finished cleaning his sword and sheathed it. "I wish you the best of luck, Lady Baggins. May our paths cross again in happier times."

"I wish you the same, sire."

Tauriel nodded to each of them, winked at Fili, and to Thorin's lasting chagrin, kissed Kili. Legolas rolled his eyes and caught her arm. "The trail is going cold, _mellon_."

His nephew stayed rooted to the spot, a dazed look on his face.

"She's a fiery one," Bella commented, looking after the Elves. " _Achoo!_ I like her."

"You're as bad as Kee. The way you two are going on about her, you'd think she was one of the Nazgûl," Fili snorted.

Thorin clarified at Bella's confused look. "They were some of Mordor's most useful weapons when Sauron the Corrupted ruled Middle Earth. Nine women, beautiful beyond compare, who some say were once queens of old. They had voices that would ensnare men's hearts and minds until they became enslaved, wraiths in the service of Mordor."

"Ah, we have another name for them. Sirens." She shivered, glancing out over the water.

"Come on. That fancy princeling wasn't lying. We are running out of time." Thorin pushed them all into motion.

"We need weapons," Fili murmured as they walked down the bridge.

"Aye. We'll have to buy them in town." Thorin agreed. If only they had their ship! They had a veritable armory below decks. They were just going to have to hope that Laketown had a blacksmith. Though why they would build a forge in a floating wooden town...one spark and the whole place would go up.

After a long walk they came upon a guardhouse just as the sun began to sink. The breeze carried beguiling scents to their noses: roasting meat, baking bread, succulent fruit. Thorin knocked firmly on the door as everyone's stomach growled.

"Let me do the talking. I've heard a lot about the Master of Laketown. Since we have no means with which to bribe him, we're going to have to go for shock value," he said quietly.

They nodded. Bella had grown sicker as the day wore on. Now she was hardly understandable through her thick cold, and she had started shivering again despite the warm sun.

A guard, tall and rugged, wrenched open the door, took them in, and demanded, "who are you?"

"I am Thorin Oakenshield. King of Erebor. We wish to stay in your fair city for the night. Take me to your master," he said, staring the man straight in the eye.

There was hubbub behind the guard. Three more faces peered curiously at them from a card table.

"I can't do that. He's at the feast."

"All the more reason to take us there," Fili snapped. "We haven't had a proper meal in days."

"Should you come to any grief for disturbing the feast, I will take the blame," Thorin said. "And please, bring a blanket. Our lady is sick."

It took the guards a few more minutes and several more stern commands before they agreed to take them to the Master. As annoyed as he was, Thorin let go of his irritation when one of the men gave Bella a blanket that had been warmed in front of their fire and a mug full of strong tea.

She offered it to the three of them, but Thorin shook his head. "You need it most, my love. Keep the blanket close now."

The feast was in full swing when they arrived. It appeared to be some sort of Laketown holiday for all of its citizens were present. People laughed and ate and drank at long tables placed in the town center. Behind the biggest table that was loaded with the best cuts of meets and undoubtedly the best ale, was the Master of Laketown.

A balding man with strength gone to hard fat and greed, he watched them walk forward with eyes watering from too much drink. To his right was a homely fellow, greasy black hair falling haphazardly from a ragtag cap over wide set dark, shifty eyes.

The captain of the guard stepped forward at the Master's signal. "Sire, we have some visitors who insisted on interrupting your feast."

"Oh? Who are they? Merchants, assassins, thieves?"

"None of the above," Thorin said loudly. Conversations stopped as people paid attention to the brewing drama. "I am Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain. As it was foretold of old, I have returned."

The Master's eyes nearly bulged from his head. Murmurs sprang up around them. Thorin noticed one man in particular, leaning forward to better see him in the dying light, a frown creasing his handsome face. His children, two girls and boy, noticed their father's intent and grew silent as well. The man looked oddly familiar, as if Thorin had seen his face in a distant dream.

"Now, see here, sir," the greasy man on the Master's right began. "We simply have no reason to believe you. It is much more likely that you are here to fleece us out of our hard earned gold."

Thorin drew himself up, widening his stance. "I did not come here to be insulted by some two-bit weasel who does not know when to hold his tongue." He glanced around at the crowd. A few smiles emerged at that. "Nor did we come to disrupt your merrymaking. We only come seeking hospitality before we continue onto Erebor."

The man on the edge of the crowd stood. "There is indeed a prophecy about you, Thorin Oakenshield. Perhaps you have forgotten how it ends."

" _Achoo!_ You hab a prodecy?" Bella asked. "My, look how fancy you are."

He winked at her. "It draws the ladies right in."

" _The King beneath the mountains,_  
_The King of carven stone,_  
_The lord of silver fountains_  
_Shall come into his own!_

_His crown shall be upholden,_  
_His harp shall be restrung,_  
_His halls shall echo golden_  
_To songs of yore resung._

_The woods shall wave on mountains_  
_And grass beneath the sun;_  
_His wealth shall flow in fountains_  
_And the rivers golden run._

_The streams shall run in gladness,_  
_The lakes shall shine and burn,_  
_All sorrow fail and sadness_  
_At the Mountain-king's return,_ " the man recited. "That does not bode well for us."

"I think it depends upon how you interpret that," Fili said, putting one foot up on a bench and smiling at a group of young women nearby. "Why would a pirate king let the lakes burn? Bad for business, that."

Thorin ignored the man and turned back to the Master. "I remember Esgaroth in the days of old. When trade flowed through its ports on the way to Dale and my realm. When every person had a pocket full of gold and a purpose to their life. Smaug took all of that from you, but I intend to end his terror. Remember the days of old when pirate and fisherman and smuggler held each other in bonds of friendship and aid. Remember that and together, we will once again see prosperity in Laketown. What say you?"

All eyes turned to the Master, except for Bella's as she inexplicably watched the man who had recited the poem.

The Master stood. "I ask for only one thing before I give you my answer. Will anyone speak for you, Thorin Oakenshield? We have been burned before."

Silence fell. Thorin wanted to snarl in frustration. Why the hell would anyone here speak for him? They didn't know him from Adam no matter how much their greed might move them.

"I will." Bella stepped forward. As she curtsied to the Master, she somehow gave off the impression of icy, untouchable nobility and elegance despite her bedraggled appearance and red nose.

"And who is this?" The greasy man hissed, eyes taking in Bella.

Thorin was going to ram his fist down that man's throat.

"Alfrid asks a good question," the Master said.

Bella gave Alfrid a disdainful glance that had him shrinking back in his chair. "Lady Isabella Baggins of the Shire, my lord. I can name several character references that all are familiar with if your prejudice will not allow you to overcome my appearance. Perhaps all the tales I have heard of Laketown's hospitality have been sadly exaggerated."

The Master waved her forward sheepishly.

That was his Bella.

"Thank you," she sniffed. After a sneeze, she continued. "I have traveled with Thorin Oakenshield and his crew for several months now. We have faced dangers that I would never have believed could possibly exist, disappointments and laughter, pain and contentment. Through it all, Thorin has put the safety and happiness of his men before his own, even to the point of insanity. He is loyal, strong, and a better man than I knew when I signed onto this venture. There is no one I trust or respect more. While your doubts may be well founded out of fear and belief in prophecies, I can only say that Thorin will do anything in his power to do the right thing, even if that means fighting Fate."

The whole of Laketown stared at Bella. She met their gazes squarely, though he knew what it cost her to appear so unkempt and vulnerable. And yet she did not back down, defending him. Thorin didn't know how it was possible for such a woman to exist, let alone how she had decided to become his, but he was forever grateful for her.

The Master nodded, a broad grin stretching his aging face. "Then I say unto you, Thorin Oakenshield, I say...Welcome to Laketown!"

They were given seats of honor at the table in rapid order. Plates filled with sumptuous food were placed in front of them and their goblets filled with ale from the Master's own cask. Thorin insisted they bring a healer over to give Bella something for her cold, which was easily accomplished. The woman handed Bella a draught, told her to get some extra rest, and proclaimed that she would be fit as a fiddle come morning.

The rest of their company was sent for on a large barge, and soon joined the party. Most of them had gotten over their tumultuous barrel ride and fell into the feast with indecent pleasure.

"Thank you," he told Bella under the cover of the raucous tale the Master was telling Fili and Kili.

She leaned into his one armed embrace. "For what?"

"For what you said."

Bella gave him a strange, small smile. "You don't have to thank me for the truth, Thorin."

He kissed her temple. "If you say so, but I was going to offer to prove my gratitude once you're feeling better."

A warm, glittering look was sent his way. "Well, if you insist, I'm sure I could be convinced to listen to you."

He grinned wolfishly at her. "Excellent."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for it being a bit long of a post. And I'm sure some of you will grumble, but I stuck more to the book on their entrance to Laketown because I refuse to make the love triangle thing, even though I do like Tauriel, and having Kili get shot unnecessarily complicates things. I have other plans for that! 
> 
> I changed the timeline of Esgaroth and Erebor a bit to make it fit, but I wasn't too terribly far off.  
> And the snake and the eagle tale is actually from the Aztecs and on the Mexican flag!  
> As always, let me know what you think!


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabella bakes scones, Fili and Kili find a new appreciation for indoor plumbing, Thorin proves he's literate, and some of the mystery surrounding Smaug is blown away.

"Alright, now stick your fingers in and knead," Isabella instructed.

Sigrid and Tilda dove into the dough with relish, but Bain held back. He was convinced this was 'woman's work', but still wanted to be included in the group.

"These skills can apply to other aspects in life," she told him as he hesitated. "Nimble fingers serve you well. Besides, labor doesn't discriminate and neither should you."

"Master Fili said you are a thief," he said, plunging his hands into his own bowl. "I suppose you'd know."

"I suppose I would at that." She smiled though tears stung at her eyes. They had been in Laketown three days and her cold had mercifully relented. Halfway through the first day, tired of all the attention the company was getting, and running out of patience as the women gave Thorin dazzling looks, Isabella had gone for a walk to save her sanity. She had run into Bard, who despite his disapproval of their plan to enter Erebor, was quite friendly. To make amends for her friends' rather rude behavior toward him, she had offered to cook him dinner. That was when she met his three wonderful children and realized his wife had long ago passed. The children were so starved for feminine company that they immediately latched onto Isabella.

Her heart bled for them. She knew what it was like to grow up without a mother.

So for the past few afternoons, she had taught them all she knew about cooking and cleaning tips and even how to pick a lock (they promised not to tell their father).

She was going to have to have a talk with Fili though. It was one thing to show the children how to enter a building and quite another to expose them to the seedier side of life.

"Now, carefully form them into balls about the size of your fist and place them on the pan. Excellent. Sprinkle them with a bit of cinnamon and sugar." Demonstrating with the first scone, Isabella set it carefully on the pan. She thought it might help their cause if there were some scones waiting for Gandalf when he finally caught up to them. For she knew that Thorin would not wait for him to reach the Lonely Isle. But maybe if there were some of his favorite snacks at hand when he received the news, he might be more inclined to come help.

Unless, of course, the news was that of their deaths. Then, she supposed, the scones could be a comfort.

"Maybe we should see if the pirates want any," Sigrid remarked as they placed the scones in the oven.

"Oh, they'll be around just in time for them to finish," Isabella assured her. The children, and Bain especially, were fascinated by the pirates. Fili had taken to coming by to talk to Isabella when his brother went to sit on the boardwalk, hoping for a glimpse of Mirkwood. As he put it, "Kee's gone off the deep end for that girl. I can only hope she's not a shark."

Bard appeared before the pirates, sniffing appreciatively as he entered the house. "Maybe we should keep you around, Lady Baggins. We haven't eaten so well in years."

"Well, unfortunately most of the recipes I know off the top of my head are sweets." She smiled. "But for that, I'll let you have the first one out of the oven."

"Da!" Tilda hurried over to hug him. The bargeman looked exhausted, collapsing in a chair at the table. She had noticed how ragged all of the children's clothes were- though carefully patched- but Bard's were the worst. That was one of the reason Isabella was so keen on pushing her spice supplies on the family under the guise of teaching the kids.

It also reminded her of winter afternoons spent in the kitchen with her mother while Dad hummed quietly behind them or read from the latest book of poetry out of England.

"That's wonderful!" He smiled as Bain and Tilda recited their days. Sigrid sat in front of the oven, watching the scones as if afraid one burnt one would end the world.

"That's not what happened!" Sigrid looked up suddenly, cutting Bain off mid-story.

"It's close enough. It's called storytellin," her brother complained.

"It's called lying. Get it right."

"You tell it, then," he huffed.

She gave him an arch look, and Isabella was suddenly struck by how old the girl seemed. Sigrid was probably only sixteen or so if she were a day, but she had an old soul peering out of her amber gaze. All of the kids did. Laketown didn't seem like the easiest place to grow up. No one in town, besides the Master and his pet Alfrid, appeared well nurtured.

"The pirates, Masters Fili and Kili and Bofur, got into an argument with Alfrid. He claimed there was no way they could have come into Laketown without his knowing about it because _no one enters the town without permission of the Master_." She rolled her eyes.

Bard smiled. "I have a feeling I know where this is going."

"Of course you do. All three of them are idiots and Alfrid's a git. You, my good sir, are not," Isabella muttered.

"They aren't idiots," Bain said immediately.

"Loveable idiots," she allowed. "But idiots nonetheless. One time Kili rushed a group of Trolls singlehandedly, blowing the plan to smithereens. Nearly got himself impaled and roasted."

Distracted from the story, the kids and Bard turned to her. "You ran into the Trolls?"

"Hmm. We had a disagreement over dinner."

"Dinner?"

"Yes, over what, or more specifically _who_ , was on the menu. I'm sorry, you were saying?"

"Well, now I know why that possessive fustian Thorin warned every man in the town away from you. It was much for their protection as yours," Bard mused.

Isabella opened her mouth, realized what she was going to say was inappropriate in front of kids, and closed it. She sincerely hoped Bard was making that up or she needed to add a conversation with Thorin to her list of chores. While she appreciated him wanting to look out for her and show a certain pride in being her man, Isabella was no one's property and could take care of herself. Possessive nature often turned into something else.

"I like it," Tilda piped up. "Ma always said feisty is better than apathei- apathet- apathetic."

" _Anyway_ , the pirates bet Alfrid that they could get into the town without any of the guards seeing them," Bain picked up the story.

His father leaned forward, chin on his fists. "How'd they do it?"

"Oh, this is brilliant." Bain rubbed his hands gleefully. "Masters Fili and Kili were the ones to actually do it. Bofur was with Alfrid to make sure he didn't cheat."

"Why didn't one of the guards go with Fili and Kili to make sure they didn't cheat?" Isabella asked, helping Tilda fold the linens.

Bain looked affronted. "They're _pirates_ , they wouldn't cheat."

Certain the universe was going to split apart with such a statement, Isabella considered the ceiling. When no lightning rent the wooden beams apart, she sighed and returned to work.

"So Masters Fili and Kili," Tilda continued the tale, "walk back down the boardwalk and have two hours to reach the square without anyone reporting them to the guards. They wore masks so that people would be frightened since their faces are known around here."

"Right! And then they swim out into the lake, catch onto the side of a boat that was coming in- Mr. Porter's- and ride it in past the gatekeeper. Then, they found their first problem. How could they just walk down the streets to reach the square without someone remarking on their presence?" Bain peered expectantly at Isabella and his father.

"Wait until cover of night." She shrugged. "Or throw away the masks."

"Find a back way in with no people watching," Bard suggested.

"That, dear Bella, would have been cheating." Fili knocked once and came into the house. He kissed her cheek and sat down just in time to swipe a scone from the rack Sigrid pulled from the oven.

"Hey!" She swatted his hand. Fili jerked back, frowning slightly. He was obviously not used to the word 'no'. "Those might not be for you."

"My apologies. I did not mean to offend." He gave her what he obviously thought was a winning smile. Sigrid just rolled her eyes.

"Then maybe you should give back the other one in your left pocket," Isabella observed dryly.

Sheepishly, Fili handed the other scone back. Tilda came to his rescue, insisting that he eat that one to tell them how the batch had turned out.

"Can we finish, please?" Bain huffed, unamused by these divergences.

"You said they had to find a back way in?" his father prompted. Bard winked at Isabella as Fili sighed.

"Yep! So they let go of the boat and swim over to one of the walkways. They soon realize most of the paths are too busy and people's windows are all pointing towards the square. Swimming around a bit, they soon come to our house. Alfrid never said anything about not having allies, so they decide to come ask us for help."

"How did they get up here without being seen?" Bard asked.

Fili grinned. "You'll never guess."

"They came up through the toilet!" Bain exclaimed. "Nearly gave Sig a heart attack. Tilda wanted to know if such a thing would bring us luck."

That was too much for Isabella. Clutching the table, she collapsed into giggles. Bard chuckled quietly. Torn between embarrassment and pride, Fili turned a delicate shade of pink at odds with his smirk. This only added to Isabella's amusement. What a way to impress a girl.

"Wh-what happened then?" she gasped, wiping at her eyes. She was never going to let them live this one down.

"Well, we warmed them up and snuck them into the boat. They hid on the bottom while Bain rowed them to the square. A block away they slid back into the water and popped up into the square. The only time someone saw them was right when they walked over to meet Alfrid," Sigrid concluded.

"He was so mad you could have boiled an egg on his face," Fili remembered with a grin. "Never did pay up."

Bard snorted. "You expect that weasel to willingly part with a single copper piece? No, he'll twist this, you watch. By the end of the day, it'll be a training exercise he ordered to demonstrate to the Master he needs more control over the city's security."

Pumping Fili for more details, Bain provided a nice cover for Isabella to ask Bard quietly, "Sir, would you mind if I asked you a question about Erebor?"

"Only if you stop calling me 'sir', my lady."

"Isabella, or Bella, please."

He smiled and inclined his head. "By all means, Isabella."

"Do you believe the Aztec Stone is cursed?"

Surprised, Bard's dark eyes slammed into hers. He was silent for a long moment before he let out an elephantine breath. "Not just the stone. Each and every piece of gold in those halls is cursed. Or maybe it's the mountain itself."

"What makes you say that?"

A longer pause this time. "Walk with me?"

"I was just thinking of heading to the market." She gave each of the children a hug. "You watch out for Fili. He's a wily one."

"Who, me?" He widened his eyes comically. "Soul of innocence, I am."

Tilda giggled. "We'll keep an eye on him for you."

"Thank you, little miss." Isabella dropped her a curtsy. As she passed Fili, she bent down to whisper in his ear under the pretense of straightening her hem. "Keep an eye out. I don't like the thought of that Alfrid discovering they helped you."

Gravity fell too easily into his expression. Here was another old soul. "Aye. I've had the same thought myself. I'll keep them safe."

Bard overheard and gave Fili a thankful nod. Together he and Isabella left the house and clattered down the front stairs. They walked in silence for a while, winding across the rickety paths over the lake.

"I didn't use to believe in magic, fairy tales, monsters. There were enough monsters wearing human skin for me to be keen on believing in any more. What I've since seen of the supernatural is almost enough to make me wish for my previous ignorance," she murmured, watching a pair of small dogs shuffle past.

"Almost?"

"There is as much wonder as there are abominations in magic, just as in the mortal world. Some of the things I've seen, I wouldn't trade for my life."

"And the rest?"

"We can't forget pain to focus on the joy. That is no way to live your life."

Bard considered her. "Who taught you that?"

"Many people. Most recently, the pirates, I suppose. And not always by example." And there was a growing worry inside her that Thorin was abandoning this way of viewing the world.

"Alright. Well, for the smiles you have brought to my children's faces I will tell you what I know. But I do not wish to speak any more of this after today."

"I understand." Isabella swept her skirts aside and sat down at the bench he indicated. They sat on the edge of the marketplace as the stalls began to wrap up for the day. Isabella made a mental note to purchase some Indian spices before she left. For a town built in a strait off the beaten path, there sure was a hopping trade business here.

"My father lived in Dale. He was the Lord of the city, actually. I had a wonderful childhood. He would take me around the battlements, tell me the only difference between pirates and evil was having a code. It didn't necessarily always involve honesty." He gave her a wry smile. "But being true to yourself, honoring loyalty and oaths. That's what makes a man."

Isabella nodded when he paused. Where was he going with this?

"I had this belief as a child that if I lived my life by a code that nothing bad would happen. But then Smaug came." Bard's expression grew remote and grim. He gazed at the shadow Erebor cast on the harbor of the Lonely Isle. "He came with fire and canons. Greek fire that burned no matter how well you doused it. The surprise attack took down our guard ships giving us just a few minutes to prepare before the assault came. Smaug stood at the helm of his ship, a great suit of armor cloaking him. It was enameled gold and red and orange like those dragons of the old stories. Armor forged out of the hardest substance known to man. There are precious few things that can pierce it. How do you stop a man like that?"

"Shoot him through the eye?" Isabella hazarded.

Startled out of his memory, Bard let out a short laugh. "Now I know why you get along so well with pirates, my lady. You're fiercer than they are."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"Please do." He rubbed a hand across his forehead. "I'm going about this all wrong."

"Tell it however you like. I'm pretty quick on the uptake."

"Very well. When his ship docked, he blasted down the doors of Erebor. The entrance was engulfed in flames, but he just strode straight through. The pirates put up a heroic fight, but they had civilians to be concerned about even though we were doing our best to help the evacuation. Smaug and his men routed us. So many died. The Durin family barely made it out alive. I remember the young prince hauling his grandfather, the king, out with the help of his brother and sister because Thror refused to leave. Not because he wanted to be the last one to go down with the burning carnage like any good captain should, not because he was trying to negotiate with Smaug for the safe evacuation of his people- our people- but because he didn't want anyone else to see and touch and own his treasure. The man was mad. Gold mad, cursed, greedy. Perhaps all three.

"I remember standing by my father watching the city burn. Da had a black arrow, one of the few things that can pierce dragon armor, and he managed to hit Smaug, but it was a glancing blow. The bastard just kept walking closer and closer. He would have roasted us alive if the Durin family hadn't caught his attention. He hates them more than anything. Da sent me running and I swear that as I passed the king, as he was fighting his family to return to the mountain, his eyes were flat, reptilian, bright gold. Then he blinked and it disappeared, but from that day forward I believed the stories about the gold of Erebor. It's cursed. It ruined the Durins and ensnared Smaug so much that he hasn't emerged in years. Some say he's been consumed by the curse, but I don't believe it. I think the magic is too wily for that. It's waiting for another victim to claim."

Isabella watched the sun sink in silence. Nodding sharply, she managed to quell the growing panic inside her. "What is the curse? Just paranoid insanity?"

"According to some, yes. Others claim that the holder of the Aztec Stone becomes the avatar of Quetzalcoatl and begins the slow transition into a snake, metaphorically and literally, until they no longer recognize kin from foe. Still more say the gold itself is what causes the sorrows and the Stone is the only thing that enables keeper to remain sane, after a fashion. No one is really sure."

Quetzalcoatl. The feathered serpent god worshiped by those long ago. Some say he was the manifestation of the aspect of Lorien. A god of fertility as well as battle, he was often viewed as a benevolent being, but she remembered old tales of his possessive nature towards his goddess and followers.

A horrible weight fell on Isabella's shoulders. She knew the pirates were all aware of the dangers Smaug represented from a tactical standpoint. They kept assuring her they had a plan for dealing with the Commodore, but none of them seemed to put much credence in the stories about the treasure. It would be up to her to keep them from whatever insidious magic rested upon the hoard.

But how was she to do that?

 

**

 

_His eyes were flat, reptilian, bright gold._

Isabella flipped aside another scroll that had told her nothing new and tugged the next one off the shelf. The Laketown archives were scattered, incomplete and in horrible condition. Some of it she supposed could be blamed on the fires that consumed Dale, but the rest was inexcusable. The disregard for the past was disgraceful.

_Until they no longer recognize kin from foe._

Damn it! Why hadn't she started researching this in Rivendell? Why hadn't she interrogated Gandalf until he told her everything he knew?

"Bella?"

A high-pitched squeak escaped her lips and she toppled out of her chair in shock. Her bottom smacked into the hard ground as she looked around the silent shelves wildly.

Thorin held out his hand, laughter twinkling in his sea blue gaze. "I didn't think thieves let anyone sneak up on them."

"I didn't realize I was supposed to be on guard," she grumbled. "Help me up, please."

"You look quite fetching down there."

"Thorin," she warned.

Chuckling, he pulled her up, holding her close when she regained her feet. Isabella linked her arms around his neck. "I need to talk to you about something."

"What's that?"

"Did you warn every man in the town away from me?"

Thorin's hands hesitated briefly in their tracing of circles on her back. His expression grew cautious. "We can't afford any delays if one of the townspeople makes an issue with one of us."

Isabella gave him a sour look. His carefully worded answer was an answer in and of itself. "Did you warn every man in the town away from me?"

"Yes." Thorin met her gaze squarely.

"What did you say?"

"That you were a woman of the peerage and not to be trifled with. That you were mine and I would not take kindly to anyone forgetting that."

"Ah." That had been what she was afraid of.

"You can say I don't have to protect you, but that won't stop me from doing so. I would lay down my life for yours," he said calmly. "I know you're capable of taking care of yourself, but I don't want the world to always be on your shoulders."

She touched his face, tracing his cheekbones with her fingertips. "Thorin, I would do the same for you. That isn't the point, nitwit. I am not property nor a coveted gem to be locked away until it suits you to parade me about. Threatening a whole town of men when none of them have given me so much as a second glance does not reflect well on me. Or you. I will not stand for it, Thorin."

Thorin wrenched away from her to pace up and down the shelves. "How do you know none of the men are looking? There are spies from Mordor here, Bella. I will not let them get to you."

"There is a line between protective and possessive or paranoid," she told him firmly. "Learn it."

They stared at each other for a long moment. Isabella was scared to look away, afraid if she did the manic light lurking in the corners of Thorin's eyes would conquer. Little by little it eased. He stared at her as if she were the only lifeline in a tumultuous sea.

"Bella..." It was just a wisp of a sound.

"Well, you know my name. That's a good start."

He didn't seem to find this funny. "Bella, you should walk away now. Staying with us will only bring you pain. I can feel it, clear as day."

Her eyes narrowed, gaze so deadly it made Thorin Oakenshield step back. "Do not make me into something I am not. I would never- _will never_ \- abandon those I love in the face of danger. If you think I would, maybe in a misguided attempt to protect me, then you don't know me. If it is out of some desire to protect yourself, then you are a coward, Thorin."

Angry with Bella, angry with himself, angry with the growing panic inside him, he strode into the shelves to get away from her.

She didn't understand! How could she? He would never be able to tell her how fucked up he was. How he had been forced to watch his grandfather spiral into madness, knowing, _knowing_ , his own time would come no matter what he did to defend himself against it.

He hadn't been kidding when he told Bella to run. Thorin was doing his damnedest not to let the darkness inside him touch her, but it was becoming harder and harder not to. The closer they got to Erebor, the less he was able to control it. It was a seething, black beast gnawing at it chains, growing bolder with each passing day.

"Thorin." Bella appeared at the end of the row of shelves. How the hell had she passed him without him noticing? "Yell at me if you wish. Walk away. Scream curses from the rooftops about how you loathe the way I chew food. But don't you dare shut me out."

The snarl that usually sent battle hardened men running merely resulted in an eyebrow raise. Fucking hell.

"Tell me, is that the only thing you can do with that mouth? Someone else might think you are a one-trick pony."

"I'm not laughing, Bella," he snapped. Unable to stand the turmoil in his mind, Thorin glanced aside at the shelves, pulling a book off at random.

"Yes, that I noticed." She took a step closer to look at the title his hands. Though he refused to look at her, he knew she smiled. It was in her voice. "What interesting taste you have. I've only heard rumors about this book. Can I borrow it when you're done?"

Against his will, he felt his mouth twitch as he focused on the colorful illustrations on the page. "I thought ladies of the peerage were supposed to be...err..."

"Wilting flowers? Naive? Innocent but surprisingly good in bed nonetheless? Able to perform these lascivious acts without being taught because of some strange feminine flexibility and intuition?"

He coughed. "Yes."

"Hmm. Well, you tell me. Am I any of the above?"

She was standing close enough he could smell the new holly soap she was using. It was beguiling, but he preferred the rose. "Definitely not a wilting flower. I'm still not sure about the flexibility part."

"Still? I like the sound of that." Her hand slid over his before she stepped away. "I'm not asking for the world, Thorin. If you don't want to talk to me, fine, just tell me why, even if it's just you need time or I'm annoying you. Don't shut me out."

Thorin tapped the book against the shelf. Did he dare? "Alright. I can't promise I won't be a fool again, but if I am-"

"I'll tell you." She rose up onto her toes and kissed his cheek. "Thank you."

"For what? I didn't do anything."

"You're trying. That's all I ask for, Thorin. I'm not better at this than you are."

"Eh. Disagree. I think it's part of the intuitive feminine deal." He wrapped his arms around her waist when she would have returned to her desk.

"That's completely misogynistic of you." She laughed.

"You started it."

Bella tilted her head, giving this due consideration. "How do you propose to finish it?"

"I have a few ideas." He brushed butterfly kisses over her eyelids and cheeks. When he leaned closer, however, Bella shook her head.

"Thorin! We're in a library!"

He blinked, feeling summarily cheated out of her kiss. "What? Bella, how is this any worse than a cell?"

"Because...libraries are sacred! Peaceful, serene places."

Containing a laugh at how adorable she was with her nose scrunched up and a holy expression her face, Thorin thought quickly. "Then we'll make peaceful, serene love."

"Ha.Ha. Nice try. Come on, I'll show you what I've been researching."

He didn't budge. "You know, if libraries are so sacred, why do they have books like this?"

Bella sniffed. "All knowledge is worth having, Thorin. There are also books on how best to dismember a man. Shall we try that one out too?"

"We'll save that for tomorrow. However, this book is giving me some ideas. I particularly like this one on page five."

Another arch look before she consented to glance at the book. The scrunch between her eyes grew. "Is that physically possible?"

"Try it for yourself before believing a book, I always say. Only then can you teach others," he replied piously.

"Do you?" That green gaze, flecked with more gold than usual today, laughed at him. "Well, then, teacher. Enlighten me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update! Sorry for the wait. There were some family things going on and I had papers to publish. Blah. But, if you need to know anything about viruses, I'm your gal.  
> Also, I got stuck. I've been working my way through it after complaining to my roommate, but that is why they are still in Laketown.  
> Never fear, next bit will advance them literally and metaphorically.


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pirates and their thief reach the Lonely Isle and we have our first glimpse of Commodore Smaug

Erebor.

Home.

Surely the lightning should streak from the sky, the wind singing in welcome, when Thorin set foot on the Lonely Isle for the first time in over a decade. Surely there should be some sign, _anything_ , telling the world that he was doing the right thing, that he was about to fulfill his oath of vengeance in the name of his father and grandfather, or die trying.

But there was nothing. There was no breeze, no lightning, no sense of impending triumph or even failure. Nothing but the crackle of sand beneath his boots as he hopped out of the rowboats Laketown had lent them to cross the Long Strait.

Bella's green-gold eyes were wide as he helped her ashore. "What is this place?"

"The Desolation of Smaug," Balin replied grimly, weary eyes taking in the ruined marina, the shambles and burnt husks that had once been proud buildings bustling with life.

"Sweet Acorns," she breathed, one hand covering her mouth. "How did any of you make it out alive?"

"I ask myself that question every day," Thorin murmured, but now was not the time to relive old memories. "Come on, lads. Today is Durin's Day. We have to find the gray stone before the sun sets."

And so began the long and hot and desperate day of searching. It took them past the noon hour to reach the base of the mountain. The front doors, or rather the hole where the elegant, carved doors had once been, had been blocked in with stone. All of the windows of the mighty stronghold were blocked, except for the arrow slats. There was absolutely no sign that anyone lived here.

As they circled the mountain, all Thorin could dwell upon was the building rage in his gut. In Dale they had been forced to step over skeletons lying in the street, see corpses mummified in ash contorted in desperate positions as the people had clawed and crawled away from the fires. The brilliant gardens that used to cloak the entrance to Erebor were fallow fields, no hint of green marring the endless gray.

All of this death, all of this because of Smaug. One man who had ruined so many lives.

No more. Thorin had plans for Smaug. He would torture him first. Smaug didn't deserve a clean end. Hot irons on his flesh to recall how he burned Dale. Cage him in too small of a room to mimic those who couldn't escape the flames. Force Smaug to watch as Thorin reveled in the gold and the gems and the strength of the mountain. Make him curse and scream in jealousy as Thorin claimed all that was his, surrounded by huge piles of gold.

Then, and only then, would he kill Smaug. Throw the son of a bitch out for the crows to peck at before the sea washed away the last of his filth.

"Thorin?" Bella's sweet voice called from somewhere nearby. "Do those look like stairs to you?"

Well, they might if he could find her and the questionable stairs. "Where are you?"

"Oh, sorry. I am over the little knoll and down in the divot."

The little knoll. Thorin rolled his eyes. There were tiny hills on every side of him. Her voice sounded as if it were coming from up ahead on the left, however, so he struck out in that direction. He had lost sight of the others, though in this empty of a landscape, he could easily call to them even if they were a league off.

"Ah! How did you get down there?" The ground beneath his feet abruptly ended, plunging straight down into a narrow fissure in the earth.

"Very carefully," she said over her shoulder.

He grinned. "You fell, didn't you?"

"Yes. Very carefully." Bella winked. "However, I would suggest a different method of descent for you. Not everyone is as talented at recovery as I am."

"You should be more careful. One more hard hit to your knee and you might never be able to walk without a cane again." Thorin braced a hand on the edge of the cliff and swung down into the fissure.

"Hmm." She had already turned back to what had originally caught her attention. "Over there."

Following the road of her arm, Thorin saw a dark gray rock snaking up the side of Erebor. The edge of the rock zigzagged in a fairly regular pattern. If he tilted his head and squinted....

"You have keen eyes, Bella. I would have just assumed I was drunk."

She snorted. "What a silver tongue you have, my lord."

"It's part of my charm. After you, my lady."

The rest of the company joined them after a shout, and soon they had reached the odd rock. The zigzags had been cleverly disguised as part of the monolithic statue of Durin the Deathless. The stairs wound up the side of his leg, opposite where his axe came to rest over the front doors of Erebor.

Bella stood in contemplation of the stairs as his nephews excitedly began the climb. Her nose scrunched and her hands tapped restlessly against her thighs.

"What is troubling you?" Thorin stepped up behind her and kissed the tip of her delicately pointed ear.

"I don't believe in Fate."

The non-sequitur puzzled Thorin just as he was beginning to think he understood Bella. "Many people don't."

"Yes, well, you and I aren't _many people_. No, I don't believe in Fate, but the closer and closer we get to this mountain, the more a....dread solidifies behind my heart. I feel as if no matter what we chose to do, the outcome is already determined. As if our futures are written in stone the second we step into the mountain. As if they have been for eons, just waiting for us to arrive before the final letter is etched," she said quietly.

How was he to respond to that? The same ugly, futile feeling had been growing inside of him as well. The mountain, the curse upon it, knew they were coming.

Bella shook herself. "Well, I _refuse_ to believe in Fate. Free will is the only altar to which I pray. Come on. If there is a destiny waiting for us inside, I will face it and decide whether or not to accept it."

"I pity the person who stands in your way," Thorin said, slightly in awe of her. There was a building fear in her, he could see it, but she refused to give in to it.

Together, they mounted the steps up and up the side of the mountain. When the stairs ended, they were at least three hundred feet from the ground. The narrow landing carved into the side of the mountain was composed of only gray stone. Rock surrounding their perch melded from gray to simple brown threaded with red iron and white calcium.

 _Stand by the gray stone_. This had to be it.

"What do we do now?" Ori asked as he bent over, gasping for air.

Breath was coming a little short for Thorin as well. That had been a lot of stairs. "We wait for the sun to set. Once we've caught our breath, we need to go back and bring up the supplies. If Smaug comes out for any reason, he'll see the bundles and know we're here."

"We'll go," Fili, Kili, and Nori volunteered.

"Good. Take the rest of the water. Be careful," he commanded.

Setting to work erecting some sort of shelter from the sweltering sun, Thorin and Dwalin created a canopy in one of the nooks of the stone. The others set to other tasks: Ori worked on his latest knitting project, Dori was flipping through a book and commenting on his stitches, Bifur was on lookout, Bombur fell asleep, Gloin and Oin fell into discussion about their families, Bofur worked on his latest song, and Bella and Balin were talking about something that put frowns on both of their faces.

"-removed," Bella said, gesturing with her arms, as Thorin walked over.

Balin pondered the sky for a long moment before looking back down and nodding. "Aye. I believe that might work, but the cost will be steep. More than anyone is willing to pay."

Bella said nothing, looking grim, which only seemed to worry Balin more. Stepping in before things continued to devolve, Thorin offered Bella a hand up. "You're going to fry in the sun if you're out here any longer."

She blinked at him and some of the horrible gravity disappeared from her expression. "Thank you. Pink is no longer in style."

"Alright, Sassy, up you get." He stole a kiss as she let herself tumble into him.

They whiled away the hours until sunset, soon joined by the boys and the supplies, in amiable conversation and storytelling. It was odd to hear tales of their journey here, as if they were already heroes in some long ago tale. Thorin had never wanted to be a hero, simply someone worthy of his people. To hear himself cast as such when he knew he was no noble, mighty soul....it was unsettling.

Eons later the sun began its nightly pilgrimage to the horizon. Shadows lengthened on the mountain, casting the whole isle into darkness, as the glowing orb sunk lower and lower. Tension mounted as they watched the sun disappear.

Almost there...just a few more minutes...

Thorin dug in his pockets for the key. He had been waiting so long for this. There was nothing now to stand in his way of returning home. Not even Smaug could spoil this moment.

 _This is for you, Father. One day I will find you and bring you home. I hope you're proud of us_ , he thought, staring at the mountain. Fili and Kili would finally be able to understand their heritage, understand what their father and uncle had died for.

The last rays of sunlight slipped down the side of the mountain, growing steadily closer to the gray stone. No one dared to breathe as the light whispered across the stone.

Easing lower and lower...the sun disappeared. Night had conquered the sky and the stone remained unchanged.

"No., Thorin breathed. "This cannot be! Balin, what did I miss?"

Balin met his bewildered look with an anguished one of his own as Thorin pivoted, trying to find some shred of hope that they hadn't just completely lost.

Then, miraculously, Bella let out a low laugh full of amazement. She touched the stone with her fingertips and gazed up at the sky.

"I hardly think this is funny, lassie," Dwalin growled.

"It's not. I was just thinking how clever the builder of this door was. Oh, cheer up you lot. What a bunch of Gloomy Gus's." She smiled at Thorin. "You are forgetting the rest of the puzzle."

Frowning, he tried to tamp down his panic enough to think. "Stand by the gray stone when the thrust knocks, and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the keyhole."

"Exactly. Do you see a thrush? No, then we must have interpreted it wrong. Look, when I asked you what Durin's Day was, you told me it's when-"

"The last sun of summer and the first moon of autumn are in the sky-" Dori recited obligingly, only to be interrupted by Bifur.

_"La luna!"_

Bella beamed at him. "Exactly! The sun has just set and now the moon-"

As if obeying her command, the light of the moon overlapped momentarily with the sunset to dazzle their eyes. When Thorin could see again, he spied a huge, black thrush. The bird flew past Bella, picked up a small rock snail, and smashed the shell into the side of the mountain.

Silver moonlight illuminated the bird before climbing upward in a dazzling, iridescent fire to sparkle on an indent in the rock. It could only be one thing: The keyhole!

A fierce grin stretching his mouth, Thorin stepped forward and inserted the key. Hiding a breath- what if this were just some cruel trick- he turned the key.

CLICK!

Dust trickled down from the stone until a door was very clearly outlined in the mountain. Hardly daring to believe this was real, Thorin nudged it open.

A belch of hot, stale air flung his hair back from his face as the door revealed a long, dark passageway into the mountain.

They had found the back way in!

 

 

Walking down the hallways of Erebor, dark and hollow and scarred with pain, was the hardest thing Isabella had ever done in her life. It should have been as simple as one foot in front of another, but every instinct she had screamed that this mountain would only bring her pain and death.

The pirates, overjoyed at finally being reunited with their hope and home, had gone suddenly quiet when they realized now was the time to send their burglar in. The expression on Thorin's face, torn with guilt and hope, love and fear, had nearly broken her heart.

She had been ignorant of Smaug and the fear he had sown when she had undertaken this quest. Perhaps it would have been better to keep her distance from the crew, to avoid attachments, so that today would not be so difficult.

To keep them from agonizing over the decision, Isabella had drawn herself up and announced she was going in. Thankfully no one commented on the tightly leased terror evident in her tone.

No, damn it. She had a job to do and she would never let Thorin down. Besides, after all her research and speculating with Balin, she was the most qualified to deal with Smaug.

Or so she kept telling herself.

"I am a very successful thief," she had reminded the crew. "Now, tell me exactly what it is I am to be stealing."

"The Aztec Stone. The Jewel of the King," Dori said reverently and utterly unhelpfully.

"It is a large white pearl. Bluish white. You'll know it when you see it." Balin had been marginally more useful.

"Be careful, Bella," Thorin warned in a low voice.

Touching his face, just in case she never had the chance again, she dredged up a smile. "I don't know any other way to be. I have the world's best pirate crew at my back and stealing from one man with no guards is a piece of cake."

"We'll be listening for your word in case something goes awry," Dwalin assured her.

"Thank you." She smiled at them all, rose up on her toes, and kissed Thorin. He held her close as though she were the world's most fragile and revered treasure. It had taken all of her willpower to draw back from him. "I love you."

"And I, you," he whispered. "Come back to me, Bella."

That was certainly the plan, a plan in which she felt fairly confident, assuming: One, she didn't find Smaug alive and kicking, two, she didn't get killed by said alive and kicking Smaug, and three, she didn't get lost. Unfortunately, each of these were distinct possibilities. Marking the way with charcoal helped the latter case, but she soon discovered Erebor was larger than she had ever conceived.

Stumbling in the dark, she almost fell off the edge of the path as the narrow tunnel suddenly widened into an enormous chamber. Even in the dim light that seemed to radiate from the stones themselves, Isabella was awestruck. Years later when she would attempt to put pen to paper to record her adventures, she still had yet to find words for the majesty and sheer enormity of Erebor.

Stone pillars that could have supported Heaven itself marched down the stretch of the realm, pathways branching off from these stone giants to connect platforms and tunnels and stairways that arched and wound through Erebor. Easily, the whole Shire could have fit inside this stone kingdom with room for Rivendell as well. Veins of gold and silver cascaded through the lustrous gray stone of the walls, hinting at the treasures Erebor lay claim to. And below her...

She tiptoed to the edge of her platform and peered down. Minutes passed by, maybe even hours, as she stared, entranced. The mounds of gold, piles of gems, buckets of silver, pierced her heart with a fierce and enthralling desire. For a moment, she could understand why Smaug had come all this way to capture this treasure. For _this_ was treasure, _this_ was wealth, _this_ was _power_. Everything else was a cruel joke to those who owned it.

Dimly and slowly, Isabella realized that the glow that allowed her to see the magnificent hoard was not coming from the precious metals and gems. The reddish glow was coming from a large, sleeping creature curled around a stone pillar.

Enormous to suit his surroundings, the creature lay sprawled atop the heaps of treasure. Red scales covered the long, lithe body, four legs and...tail. He had a tail. The scale on his belly were golden, though they seemed a pale imitation to the real metal surrounding him. Wings curled from his back to lay limp and crumpled behind him.

His face was an odd blend of human and draconian. Long snout, human eyes, fangs, scales blending into skin. Smaug. Only no longer was he the Commodore. Not fully human, not fully a dragon, he was something in between.

Isabella hadn't believed it. Hadn't wanted to believe it. Pinching herself to make certain this wasn't some sort of nightmare, she felt the pain and was forced to accept what was before her. The stories and books she had read in Laketown hadn't led her astray. But boy oh boy had she wished it otherwise. She was staring at the sleeping avatar of Yazi, one of nine sons of the dragon.

 

Balin told her he remembered each and every detail about Smaug's arrival to the Lonely Isle. The one thing he had remembered most clearly was the sword the Commodore carried. A Chinese dao sword with a dragon likeness enameled on the hilt. He had worn dragon scale armor, so named because nothing of mortal make, excluding a black arrow, could pierce it. Combine that with Commodore Smaug's penchant for all things having an Eastern flair, and it hadn't taken long before Isabella had found the correct reference in the book of folklore.

There was a dragon once, full of majesty and wisdom, who had nine sons. Each son had different affinities and attributes. Yazi, the seventh son, embraced war, always aggressive and ready for a fight. For this reason, the Chinese carved dragons in his likeness onto their weapons and war buildings. Stories, few and far between, mentioned the mortals who had traded their humanity for strength, strategy, and battle prowess from Yazi. They rarely lost a battle, but slowly, inexorably, they morphed into the earthly representations of his majesty and might and greed.

That alone was problematic. How does a mere mortal defeat a dragon? But add in the Aztec Stone, the memory and power of another serpent god that lingered in these water, and things went from improbable to impossible.

 _No, think positively_ , she told herself sternly. Nothing was impossible.

During her research into both Chinese dragons and this mysterious cursed stone, Isabella had encountered a tale about the Flaming Pearl. One of the greatest treasures mentioned in Eastern mythology, the presence of the pearl beneath a dragon's chin signified the creature's absolute power and wisdom. The pearl, among other things, granted wishes and increased the avatar's connection to the dragon's magic. According to the legend, any magical stone would do, but pearls were the best conduit.

And how had the pirates described the Aztec Stone? A large, bluish-white pearl.

A fucking pearl.

Hmm. Maybe Kili was correct. Maybe she did curse too much. Still, the occasion seemed to warrant it.

The pirates expected her, no, begged her, to collect the stone that was currently beneath Smaug's chin and, if she believed the tales, carried a curse of paranoia and death upon it. So what had she told them?

Piece of cake.

Maybe she was already crazy. Maybe there had been something in the water at Laketown.

There was but one option. Isabella turned from watching the sleeping dragon and searched for a way down onto the hill of gold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aha! An update. I wanted to get this one up before I head out for the weekend. 
> 
> What do you think of Smaug? I wanted to keep it in Eastern mythos since Tolkien said he imagined Smaug more like an Eastern, Chinese dragon than a Western one. 
> 
> More to come soon!


	22. Chapter Twenty-Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabella sees the Arkenstone, but could it be in a more inaccessible place? No, not really  
> Or,  
> The dragon awakens and the pirates discover the consequences of their actions

The closer Isabella came to the pearl, the harder she had to fight to keep moving. This was absurd. Her, a little Hobbit, against a dragon? All the ways he could kill her ran through her mind: fire, biting, crushing, heat exposure...

At the base of a mountain of gold and gems, she stared upward at the creature who was once Smaug, and at the Aztec Stone that lay beneath his gigantic chin. As though sensing her gaze, the reddish halo around the ice-white pearl flared brighter, its dark tail beckoning her closer.

No, thank you.

Isabella eased back and attempted to find another option to the damned stone besides straight up. However, given Smaug's enormity and current placement, she didn't have a lot of choice. The ceilings were too high to rig a system of pulleys and ropes, the stone columns too wide to wrap around, and the mountain too unstable to lay down a barrier.

To complicate matters, the gold shifted beneath her feet with each step, skittering about and clanking against gems and metal armor. The ruckus was enough to awaken the dead no matter how carefully she stepped.

There was nothing for it.

Gritting her teeth, Isabella slipped off her boots. She tied the laces together and swung them over her shoulder. The gold should have been shockingly cold against her bare feet, but it was pleasantly warm. How could that be? She was halfway down the mountain, probably thirty feet from Smaug. There was no way his body heat was enough to warm up this entire hill of metal.

 _Dragon_ , she reminded herself, a fresh wave of panic nearly drowning her. Maybe she could hire him to heat Bag End in the winters. She hated being cold.

A hysterical giggle rose to her lips, but she forced it back. She would not awake the dragon by _giggling_. Though how she hadn't woken him already from the clamor of her ascent, she had no idea.

Easing over the final mound of quartz and tourmaline, Isabella now walked on eye-level with the sleeping monster. The long snout moved slightly with each breath, his human nostrils flaring. Careful to stay downwind- was that even possible in a stagnant cave?- Isabella crept closer.

This would be just like the time she nicked the golden statue of Isildur the Valiant from Lord Denethor. The man had slept curled around the image of his beloved hero. It had taken careful, cautious movements and fast hands to steal it from him. She had replaced it with a fake, giving her enough time to clear the mansion of Minas Tirith before the alarm went up. Good thing Strider had been paying her well. The dogs had nearly caught her on that one.

 _In and out,_ she told herself, taking two more steps to the dragon. _A smooth transition. In and out._

Smaug's fetid breath washed over her as she came up alongside his chin. Gagging, Isabella nearly spoiled the whole quest by vomiting. If there was anyone who ever needed to eat an apple, he was it. Glory, that was awful. It was so hot next to Smaug that within instants, Isabella was soaked with sweat, her thin muslin dress sticking to her skin.

His wings and back claws flexed, scraping over the precious metals, as he stretched and resettled in his sleep. The enormous head swung sideways, crashing back into the mountain of coins. Isabella had to dive out of the way to avoid being smushed.

Her heart raced, beating so loudly she was sure Smaug could hear it. Holy mathoms, that monster was enormous. Isabella could easily fit inside his mouth. One bite and she would be gone. Probably wouldn't even fill him up, just whet his appetite.

 _Focus,_ she thought firmly. Now was not the time for abject terror.

It was one of the hardest things she had ever done, finding the courage to hike back up the mountain and approach the jewel. Each heartbeat was so tense, it physically hurt. But she couldn't fail now. She _couldn't_.

The Aztec Stone was cool to the touch, an odd change from the furnace-like heat rolling off Smaug. She couldn't find a way that connected the stone to Smaug, though she knew there would inevitably be one. It was an alarm she couldn't account for. That made her tremble as she gripped the pearl as best she could and tugged.

It came away easily under her pull. Having braced for a real tug-of-war, Isabella nearly fell over backward with the lack of resistance. As she held it, the gem shrunk from the size of her head to something that would easily fit in her pocket or on the pendant of a necklace. She stared at the pearl in amazement. Sweet Acorns, but it was beautiful. Colors swirled in its depths as though the entire universe was contained in its iridescent depths.

A grunt brought her back down to earth. Smaug was moving again in his dream. Isabella had just replaced the Aztec Stone with something similar to its original size, the pearl clutched desperately in her left hand when Smaug awoke.

His head whipped around, caught sight of her, and he roared. "THIIIIIEEEEEEEFFFF!"

The sound knocked her over. Isabella windmilled, trying to keep her feet, but the gold rolled under Smaug's movements. A scream to echo his tore from her throat and she toppled backwards, the pearl flying from her grasp.

 

****

The mountain shook beneath their feet. The crew leaped up, eyes casting around for some new enemy.

Thorin didn't look away from the secret door. Any second now, Bella was going to race headlong out of it, completely and utterly safe, with the Aztec Stone clutched in her hands. That rumble had been nothing more than a slight earthquake. Nothing that would suggest she was in danger. Everything was fine.

Maybe if he kept repeating that like a mantra it would be true.

"What was that?" Ori asked in a hushed voice.

Balin sighed, a horrible pain overcoming his aging features, "that, dear one, was a dragon."

And then again, maybe not.

Balin had already caught them up on the research Bella had done in Laketown, though Thorin would be sorry to believe half of their theories. It wasn't that he didn't believe in their intellectual prowess or thorough reading, but he just couldn't wrap his mind around confronting an actual dragon. Commodore Smaug was a difficult enough target, but a _dragon_? It strayed perilously close to impossible.

"Then we have to get to Bella! She can't take on a dragon by herself," Fili said.

"No," Thorin snapped. "We give her more time."

Everyone paused. Twelve pairs of astonished eyes turned to him. He hadn't just said that, had he?

"Thorin," Balin said softly, "Fili is correct. Bella can't take down a dragon on her own. And if he's awoken, then her chances of finding the Stone have just vanished. We have to help her."

"I said no." It had only been one yell and Bella had already been in there hours. Surely she had found the Stone and was well away from Smaug when he awoke. As much as he wanted to protect Bella, he also trusted her to do her job. There was no one better.

Balin stared at him for a long moment. "You've changed, Thorin. This mountain has already gotten to you."

"I am not my grandfather," he snarled. Did Balin think so little of him?

"You are not yourself! You love Bella. All of us do. The old Thorin wouldn't have hesitated to go after her, not even if it came at the cost of Erebor. Even if it was a false alarm."

A distant part of Thorin realized Balin had a point, but it was drowned out by the rest of him. Bella had already found the Stone and was on her way back. Thorin had to believe that, he _did_ believe that. Any other truth would not be accepted.

"We'll go as far as the end of the corridor. Just in case," he said. Then they would be closer to Bella when she returned.

Relieved smiles overtook the crew as they gathered up their weapons and hurried inside. Thorin ran his hands reverently over the walls. Erebor. Home. He had been happy here. Dis and Frerin and him would wander these halls for hours on end, sometimes escaping their studies, sometimes just because they were awestruck by the monumental sense of history of the mountain.

Nothing was going to stand in the way of his finding happiness here again.

Nothing.

 

***

"My, what a pretty little thief you are." Smaug's long snout nudged against the wall of gold Isabella hid behind. His voice seemed to fill up the entire chamber with its depth and power. Some of the sounds were cut short, as though they couldn't quite slither into being around his teeth. Others demonstrated the enormity of his mouth.

Slipping on the ring, Isabella cautiously moved forward. "Thank you. Mother always said beauty is a woman's first defense."

Smaug chuckled, dark reverberations vibrating through her and setting her teeth to rattling. "Quick tongued as well. I can only imagine the trouble you get up to."

"I have my moments."

"So tell me, pretty thief, what is it you have come here to steal?"

Her foot froze mid-step. Had he not realized? Isabella risked a glanced backward. The fake Stone was still hanging beneath his chin. Calling her thief must have just been a gut reaction. She remembered how to breathe. "I have not come to steal from you, my lord. I came....I came because I did not believe the tales. Surely no one could be as magnificent, as...as...intimidating as the stories claim you to be."

"Oh? And what do you believe now?"

She couldn't tell if the flattery was working or not. Smaug sounded amused, but that could just be a ploy. Isabella kept walking. The pearl glinted innocently from atop a mound of sapphires. "Truly, songs and tales fall utterly short of reality, O Smaug, Chiefest and Greatest of Calamities."

"You have polite manners for a thief and a liar," he snapped on a laugh. "Perhaps I'll keep you around. My hoard has been lacking one thing all these years. Care to guess what that might be?"

"A pair of mixing bowls?" she ventured.

There was a confused pause. "What?"

"Well, you can never have enough good mixing bowls. There is a set of carved, polished wood at the market that I've been lusting after for months now. I've noticed you have a similar dearth of good cooking supplies. It is a real problem in kitchens today," she babbled, saying the first thing that came to her mind.

"No, little thief, it is not mixing bowls I desire. I've never been one to cook my food much if a quick torching won't do." The floor shuddered as Smaug crawled forward. That cat-like golden eye came level with her as she inched forward. "Come, let me appraise you as you have appraised me. Twas only a quick glimpse I had before. I know exactly where you are. I can smell your breath, hear your heartbeat. You seem familiar enough with my name though I do not recall smelling your kind before."

A fact Isabella would be eternally grateful for. Smaug's curiosity and lust were all that kept her alive in that moment. "I come from far away, under the hills and over the seas. My path has brought me to many strange places, and through it all I am she who walks unseen."

"That I can believe. However, that is hardly your name, little thief."

"I dislike names that bind me to simply one thing. I am Ringwinner, Luckwearer, Clue-winner, Web-cutter, and Barrel-ridder," she invented wildly. Just a few more steps...

"Come now, let us see what you look like, Barrel-rider." Smaug kept pace with her. When she didn't respond, he seemed to guess what she was thinking about. Stroking the fake Stone beneath his chin, he said, "yes, beautiful, isn't it? The Aztec Stone that comes from a realm beyond ours. It is power. I am almost tempted to let you take it. Watch it destroy Oakenshield as he grows obsessed with it. Yes, Oakenshield. Did you think I hadn't guessed who is behind this, little thief? Always he is scheming, always he is planning. But should anyone hold that stone besides me, they would be corrupted by it."

Isabella kept going though it took every ounce of her self-control to do so. Balin had been concerned over the Stone as well. And though Smaug thought otherwise, he had obviously changed. What if Thorin....?

"You are clever, sir, but in this instance you are wrong. I do not know-"

"Do not LIE to me, THIEF! I can smell him on you. The line of Durin stinks like no other. I would see that filth die under my claws! Now, show yourself."

She would have to time this just right. He couldn't know that the Stone was no longer hanging beneath his chin.

Crouching in case she needed to run, Isabella tugged off the ring. The shadows clinging to her retreated and Smaug's eye turned to red fire.

"Hello, little thief."

Swallowing hard, she said, "hello, my lord."

 

***

Slap. Slap. Slap.

Thorin's head jerked up. That sounded like bare feet on stone.

"Bella!" He caught her around the middle as she rushed down the hallway. Her face was pale, but she seemed to be whole.

"Thorin! What are you doing in the mountain? Have you lost your mind? We have to get out of here!" She kept moving even though he was holding her up off the ground.

"Bella, what's wrong?"

"Thorin! Move, damn it!" Her feet ran comically on the open air.

He kept moving with her to keep the hysteria on the edge of her gaze from growing. "Did you find it?"

"Find the sleeping dragon who is no longer sleeping, well, yeah, you could say I found him." Green and gold eyes went wide. "Huge! Hard to miss him. Fire and teeth and claws! Dragon, he's a dragon!"

"Calm down, Bella. Everything's okay. Men, get moving. It would seem our time in this charming hallway is over."

"I'm going to miss the décor." Nori grinned.

Oin kissed her cheek as he passed. "Good to know you're not dead, Bella."

At the risk of having her start to panic again, Thorin stopped walking to let the men pass so he could pull Bella closer. She collapsed easily into his embrace, muffling another cry of "Dragon!"

"Hush, my love. Everything's alright. Dragons can be taken care of. We will figure something out."

"Perhaps you've gone deaf in the past few hours. I said he is a dragon," she snorted, suddenly sounding much more like her normal self.

Thorin tilted her head up for a kiss. Gods, he had missed her. So what if it had only been noon since he had seen her? "Together we can all figure out how to take him down. Did you find the Stone?"

"You're right. You're right." Bella took a deep, shuddering breath. "Alright. Come on, we shouldn't get fried just because of my panic attack."

Thorin frowned. She kept avoiding answering his question about the King's Jewel.

The first of the crew had just reached the door when a deep bellow came from behind them. With the force of an explosion, the sound washed over them. Then came a sharp snap!, and the door swung closed.

"Oh dear," Bella murmured, her hand squeezing his to within an inch of its life. "Oh dear, dear, dear."

 

***

"So tell me, Barrel-rider, what is it you took from me?" Smaug asked pleasantly as Isabella shifted through the riches that had overflowed into the kitchens. The dragon's head fit into the room, but that was it. It was an oddly comical sight, like something out of a children's story when one of the characters got stuck. She wondered if she would have to pour oil on him to allow him to move back out.

"Beg pardon, my lord?" She willed her hands not to flinch.

"I know every inch of my domain, every single piece of treasure that fills these halls. Something is missing. Since you are the only one who has been in and out of Erebor since I burned the last pirate to a crisp, my suspect list is rather short."

"My lord, I appreciate your situation, but I'm afraid you are going to have to look elsewhere for your thief." She held her arms out to either side of her, the sweat-slick fabric of her dress clinging to her skin with indecent tenacity. "I can hardly hide anything on my body. Also, I know you are sharp enough to spot any hiding place I might use."

That cat-like gaze slid over her and Isabella suddenly wished she were wearing a sack. "Quite the compelling argument you make."

"I am only pointing out what you already know." If he truly thought she had stolen something, Isabella would be ash by now. Which, as his pungent breath washed over her, sounded rather nice right about now. Maybe then she wouldn't be able to smell anything.

"Indeed. Have you found them, yet?"

"Not yet. I think the mixing bowls must be in here somewhere. They are the real treasure of a kitchen. Maybe you should have them engraved." It had taken all of her persuasive abilities to convince the pirates to let her come back to Smaug. Now that he was awake and the door closed, a distraction was the best option they had for everyone to get to safety. She had deliberately avoided giving them details about how she would escape after distracting Smaug, mostly because she didn't actually have a plan. It was going to be luck more than anything that got her out alive if she managed it.

Thorin had taken the longest to convince, certain they should attack Smaug head-on. She had stomped on that brilliant plan by pointing out they had no weapons that could pierce his scales unless someone felt like getting up close and personal to the one flaw near his heart, or a lucky shot found his eyeball. Any misstep would result in everyone being fried.

No, it was best not to confront Smaug directly. They needed to return to the secret door, form a plan, and then reenter the mountain. Wait for the dragon to go back to sleep or something.

"I think you might be the prize in my kitchens." Smaug grinned, his forked tongue running over teeth. The front fangs were as long as she was tall.

No, that wasn't terrifying at all. "You are too kind, my lord."

When she thought the men had had enough time to make it out the main doors of Erebor, Isabella "discovered" the mixing bowls she had buried under a pile of gold. "Aha! My, these are nice."

It was true. The bowls ranged in size from several gallons to just a cup or so and were made from gleaming rose wood. Carefully polished until they glowed, the bowls were still in fantastic shape though they had been neglected for years. There were small nicks around the edges and scrapes along the bottom to show they had been well used in their lifetime, but these bowls had been loved. Whoever had used them had truly enjoyed their job.

"I don't understand." Smaug's jaw clicked closed on the last word. He seemed genuinely perplexed. "Out of this whole mountain, that is what you would choose to take as your own?"

"Definitely. There are stories ingrained in these bowls, years of love and loss. What is the point of treasure if you have no stories to tell along with it, no loving hearts to share it with? These bowls deserve more tales." Gold and jewels were all well and good, but Isabella was uniquely qualified to testify as to the trouble they brought along with the riches.

"No pirates died for mixing bowls, little thief."

"Didn't they?" she asked quietly. Perhaps not directly for these bowls, but she knew many of the pirates died for what they represented: hearth, home, love, safety.

"Very well. You may have them," Smaug said suddenly.

She froze. This had to be a trap. "Oh, no. I couldn't possibly. These belong with the mountain. I shall simply find another pair to start building my own stories. But I appreciate your generosity."

"Nonsense. I said they are yours, so take them," he snapped.

Seeing now way out of this, Isabella reluctantly wrapped them up in towels she found in a broken drawer and cradled them in her arms.

It took Smaug several tried to extricate his head from the kitchens. Isabella sternly held her laughter at bay as he went cross with the discomfort of tugging. Somehow she didn't think he would appreciate being laughed at.

Eventually though, he freed himself and called for her to follow him. Isabella slipped and slid over loose gold coins to join the dragon in what was once the throne room of Erebor. They could see the main entrance from here, but she saw no signs of her pirates. They must have escaped.

Oh, thank the gods.

"I have but one question for you, little thief." Smaug curled himself around the throne, looking entirely too smug for her peace of mind.

"My lord?"

"Where will you cook your first meal with those?"

"Er...well, I had thought my kitchens, but if you are hungry, perhaps I could-"

"Not in Laketown with your friends?" he asked smoothly.

Oh dear. "I don't understand, my lord."

"No? Are you pretending that you haven't spent time there recently? Do you think me such a fool?"

Isabella backed up discreetly. "I do not think you are a fool."

"You must to keep up this charade. I can smell their stench on you. Those cowards are always seeking to destroy me. They hate me! I will ruin them for sending a spy into my lair!" His eyes drowned in flames. "And then, pretty thief, I shall come back and show you exactly how I treat new additions to my hoard."

"I am not a spy. It is true that I spent time in Laketown, but only to rest. It has been a long journey to come see your magnificence. I thought to recuperate a day at the town so that I could be at my best when I met you. Showing up bedraggled and exhausted was not the impression I wanted to give you, O Smaug the Tremendous." She couldn't let him harm Laketown. She would stay with him until he killed her if it meant he never turned his flame toward Sigrid and Tilda and Bain.

For half a heartbeat, Isabella thought the flattery worked. The fire banked in his gaze and the dragon relaxed. Then, a sound came from behind her. A sound like men approaching.

"Oh, little thief. You are clever. How did you convince the men of Laketown to follow you with an army? Ah, no. I see it is just that pathetic Oakenshield dressed as one of the fishermen. How far he has fallen." Smaug grinned, fire licking the edges of his maw. "But now I will have my revenge. You and your pirates are going to watch as I show Laketown exactly what happens when they betray me, the cowards. You will watch the whole town burn, hear the screams of the children, smell their burning flesh, all the while knowing that what I will do to you makes their fate seem tame in comparison. Enjoy your last few hours, _Luckwearer_."

His wings unfurled and with a mighty leap, Smaug took to the air. The drafts from his wings threw Isabella to the side, but she could see all to clearly how Thorin and his crew charged the dragon, springing from their hiding places by the entrance. She watched as the dragon laughed, easily avoiding their blades. Bled as he smashed his way through the bricked up entrance and took off into the clear blue skies. Sobbed as she heard him cackle and belch fire toward the unwitting town on the Long Strait.

"What have we done?" she asked the gold beneath her trembling fingers.

It twinkled merrily in response. The cursed treasure demanded its sacrifices and blood, and it was about to get them. What did it care about the cost of such things?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update! So sorry for the long wait. I had to finish up my other fic and I got stuck halfway through writing this.  
> But, to make up for this, here's a 4k update. 
> 
> As always, let me know what you think. How do you like Smaug? Are you ready to kill Thorin (for being so stupid and not trusting Bella, I mean)?


	23. Chapter Twenty-Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life in the mountain is not all it was hyped up to be....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! NSFW in this chapter. Very, NSFW.

Iridescent tears slid down Balin's weathered face as he collapsed into the chair opposite Bella. The burglar glanced up from her book, a frown immediately creasing her forehead. He stared at her as if she held all the answers. Mahal above, he hoped she did. 

"Balin, what's wrong?" she placed a gentle hand on his arm. 

"It's Thorin, lassie," he said heavily. Three days had passed since Smaug had left the mountain. Two since they had seen smoke and flames rising from Laketown and watched the tidal wave crash into the shores of the Lonely Isle. They hoped that meant Smaug had drowned, but who could say for certain? No one was allowed to leave Erebor under pain of death. King Thorin had made that abundantly clear. 

Three days of sifting through gold and jewels and treasures that suddenly seemed less valuable than shit in search of the Aztec Stone. Each hour that passed without a sign of the fabled pearl saw Thorin sinking deeper and deeper into the madness Balin recognized all too well. After all, he had seen King Thror succumb all those years ago. 

He had lost hope. He had thought Thorin stronger than his grandfather, but after what had just happened...

"Balin, what's happened?" Bella asked. She pressed a mug of hot tea into his hands and favored him with a gentle smile. She was the only ray of sunlight in this cursed place. Somehow she was immune to the pettiness and fear that had taken the rest of them. Bella was the only laughter in this hellhole anymore. 

"The lads are going stir crazy. There's been no sign of the Stone. Fili and Kili want to go see what happened to Laketown. See if they can't help. They spat your argument back at Thorin, only this time he didn't take it so well." Balin took a long pull of the tea, wishing for something stronger. It had been years since he had allowed himself the beautiful numbness of alcohol, not since those dark days after Smaug first came, but now he found himself wishing for a huge barrel of mead. They could all use the distraction.

"Oh, no." 

"Yes. Thorin yelled at them, screamed, that they were abandoning their family, their duty. Without the Stone, none of the pirate lords will come to our aid in the coming battles. He sees its continued absence as a mark of shame across the name of Durin." 

Bella sat quietly for a long moment, her jade gaze going distant. It was remarkable, Balin thought, how much one slight woman had changed their lives. Throughout the day, a steady stream of crew members would come to her chambers to talk to her when normally the men viewed talking to women a chore. She made Thorin smile, a task Balin had once feared hopeless. After all they had been through, he no longer believed anything impossible; Bella had saved their lives and given them back Erebor. And now he needed another miracle from her. 

"Do you remember what we read about the Stone, it's effects on its owner? And about the gold in this mountain?" she asked. 

"Aye." Those books had been haunting his dreams. "I fear the past is repeating itself. This gold is cursed, or maybe it is Thror's line that is doomed." 

Tight brackets masked Bella's mouth. "Balin, do you think...do you think that finding the Stone will help Thorin?" 

Ah. He had thought so. Just as well. "No, lassie. I think it is best if that Stone is never found." 

A soft sigh. "Yes, so do I. Well, the future will take care of itself. We must deal with the present." 

"Aye. You're the only one Thorin listens to anymore-" 

"Not really. He hasn't given in to my pleas to help LakeTown." 

"-as much as he listens to the gold. Please, Bella. Help him." 

She stared at him, mute horror in every line of her face. "I don't know how, Balin! I'm trying everything I can think of. Arguments, pleas, tears, nothing sways him. He listens for a moment, and then that crazy light comes back into his eyes and all reason flees. I thought that maybe if I bided my time here, waited for the right moment, I could make an impact. But I'm going stir crazy. Rest is all well and good, especially after all our travels, but these walls are closing in on me." 

Poor thing. Thorin had instructed her to stay in the queen's chambers until the Stone was found. She wasn't to leave until he called for her. Ostensibly, it was for her own good: Bella had been looking rather pale ever since Smaug smashed down the doors, but they all knew the orders for what they really were: paranoid, obsessed control. Thorin didn't want anyone but him spending much time with Bella. She was his and no one else's. 

He patted her hand, feeling viciously weary. Erebor had been a wonderful dream for so many years, now it was a bitter reality. 

Bella took a deep breath and forced a smile. "Look at us, worrying like old biddies. We just need a plan. Thorin has asked that I dine with him tonight in the formal dining hall. I'll just choose my time carefully." 

"It never ceases to amaze me," he said, "the courage of Hobbits. Alright, lassie. You'll be in our thoughts." 

And prayers, but he thought it best not to add that part. 

 

**

 

An empty dining hall greeted Isabella when she ghosted down out of her rooms, breathing easier than she had in days. Seeing anything but the grand, yet oddly empty, chambers in the south wing was a welcome sight. 

Deciding it was best to wait, Isabella sat down near the head of the table closest to the roaring fire and tried not to give into the despair that boiled up from her gut. 

She swept her skirts to the side until they laid perfectly. A dress and three strings of pearls had appeared on her bed this evening and using her sharp powers of deduction, Isabella had concluded she was to wear them tonight. Being dressed like a doll with no brain would have grated, but she chose to take it as Thorin's completion of the promise he had made at Beorn's. The dress certainly was beautiful even though it wasn't green: gauzy silver over skirts the color of sapphires soaked in midnight with a low bodice and sheer sleeves. The pearls she had wound through her simple chignon and around her neck. 

Gazing into the looking glass in her chambers, Isabella had acknowledged she had hardly ever looked so put together and yet she had never felt so miserable. What would happen if she weren't fast enough or smart enough or good enough to help Thorin? Who all would pay for her failure this time? 

In a vain attempt to comfort herself and keep from seeing the smoke rise from Laketown in her mind's eye, Isabella pulled a smooth, small object from her pockets and ran her hand over the slick surface. So small and lovely, it's future filled with promise if only she could find a way to fix this mess. 

"What is that?" The sibilant hiss made her jump. Thorin stood in the doorway, half obscured in shadow, the fire glinting off his gaze until she couldn't tell if she were looking at a man or a devil. 

"It's nothing," she said, making to put it away. 

"Bella, do not lie to me. Show it!" 

Hiding a flinch at his empty, dreadful tone, she opened up her hand and showed him the object resting in her palm. "Beorn gave it to me. I'm going to plant the acorn when I get home. I used to collect acorns when I was little, but I've never successfully planted one, though Beorn assures me that this one will grow." 

Thorin stepped forward and placed a warm hand on hers. He smiled crookedly and the manic light dimmed in his gaze. He no longer appeared frightening, just weary and wonderfully human. "I have complete faith in your ability to grow anything you wish, little one." 

She smiled, a small tendril of hope curling through her heart. "Thank you." 

"One day we will walk the gardens of Bag End together. After how much you speak about them, I'm picturing flowers and trees to rival Yavanna's." He walked over to a hidden slat in the wall near the hearth and pulled out a tray of food. 

"Don't give me too much credit. My mother was the real gardener. She could make even heather grown in the heat of Middle Earth. Ooh, that smells lovely."

"Bombur certainly has outdone himself," he said. 

Isabella saw the slight frown he tried to banish from his face. "Everyone is under a lot of stress. He's probably just trying to do something nice for us. Besides, he once told me that cooking relaxes him." And because the crew wanted Thorin in a good mood. 

"Probably because he tastes everything that goes into and out of the pot." The teasing note in his voice further eased her tension. The old Thorin was firmly in control. 

Deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth, Isabella swallowed her questions and fears. There would be time to piss him off later. "Probably." 

"The crew talks to you, Bella. They tell you things they'd never tell me." 

"That's because I'm the picture of understanding and secrecy." She winked. 

The answering smile didn't quite reach his blue eyes. "They hide things from me. Vital things." 

Uh-oh. "No, Thorin. The men are loyal to you to the point of insanity. No one would ever betray you simply because it would never occur to them to do so. Now, are we going to eat or am I going to have to jump over this table?" 

Thorin dished out the feast: roasted quail in a port reduction, stewed, dried apricots, a spicy rice dish, seared shrimp, and, Isabella had to smile, a small plate of greens just for her. 

The food disappeared quickly beneath easy conversation. Agonized hope rose in Isabella as she watched Thorin laugh and smile. Maybe he was healing, maybe things weren't as desperate as her heart warned her they were. 

As she licked the last of the chocolate- where on earth had Bombur found chocolate in this hellhole?- from her spoon, Thorin abruptly stood, his gaze locked on her mouth. "Come." He held out a hand for her. 

Butterflies erupted in her stomach as she stood slowly and slid her palm over his. The heat from his skin burned hers with the most beautiful fire. It had been days since he had touched her. Gods, but she had missed him. 

"You look stunning tonight, my lady." His voice caressed her as they wound through the endless halls of Erebor. Since she had been confined to the opposite wing and her explorations with Smaug hadn't shown her this part of the mountain, Isabella was quickly lost. 

"Thank you." 

"However, I don't believe you're wearing the pearls correctly." He tugged her into a small room off the cavernous hallway. 

Isabella touched her neck self-consciously. "Oh, dear. I've never worn pearls before. My family was well off, but we never spent our money on precious stones." 

"It is an understandable mistake, but I like the result nonetheless." 

They were in a small bedroom. A large bed dominated one side of the room, its dark covers mussed and twisted. Was this Thorin's bedroom? But surely, as King, he would have grander chambers. Swords and weapons of all sizes and shapes decorated the walls, many of them shrunken to fit a child's hand. A fire crackled in the hearth opposite the rich wooden frame of the bed, the fire spilling lovingly over Isabella. The red and orange light bounced off the gold bars and coins that carpeted the stone floors, reminding her horribly of the red and gold of Smaug's scales. 

It wasn't unusual to find chambers, even water closets, filled with coins and stones. Smaug had seemed determined to cover everything with treasure. As they moved from room to room in search of the Stone, the crew had been doing their best to clean out the auxiliary chambers to put everything in a central location, but with the size of Erebor, that could easily take years. 

Thorin bowed her into a seat by the fire. He sat back on his heels before her and pulled two short strings of pearls from a pocket. "May I?" He gestured at her feet. 

Curious, Isabella sat and extended a leg. His warm hands glided up and down her calf beneath her skirts in gentle touches that instantly set her at ease. Letting out a long sigh, she relaxed back into the plush chair and let him guide her foot into his lap. Long luxurious moments passed beneath his talented hands. Then, a cool touch around her ankle made her jump. 

One of the strands of pearls rested on her ankle, the white sheen smooth as satin in the firelight. "Thorin," she breathed. It was too much after the necklaces. With the quality of the pearls, Isabella was easily wearing enough to buy a small country. 

"Bella." He grinned at what must have been an interesting look on her face. "For a thief, you're decidedly stingy. Let me spoil you. Just for tonight." 

"Alright," she said faintly as she leaned back in the chair. Whatever it took for him to keep smiling. "But no more jewels snuck into my books." 

Thorin kissed the delicate hollow beneath her ankle, his head disappearing beneath her skirts. "I haven't ever put a jewel in one of your books. That would destroy the spine. But I like the idea of hiding little gifts for you." 

Nerves flickered to life all across her body under his careful exploration. Soon Isabella's hands were curled into fists and her breaths came in pants as Thorin slowly worked his way up from her feet. He stroked and licked and nibbled and kissed. A longer strand of pearls was wrapped around his left hand, and the brush of the cool gems against her sensitized skin sent ripples of pleasure cascading through her.

Leaning back on his heels, Thorin withdrew for a moment as he gathered up her skirts. These he push higher up her body until they bunched around her waist. She made to stand to get rid of the dress entirely, but Thorin's arms flashed out to cage her in the chair. "No, Bella. Stay. One thing at a time." 

"Oh, you evil sod. I can't stay in this corset while you touch me. I'm already half suffocating." 

"Are you saying I affect you?" He grinned. 

She narrowed her gaze at him, sternly fighting back a smile. "Don't go getting a bloated ego. I'm sure it's just the heat of the room that's getting to me. I'm a little warm." 

"We have a long way to go yet, then Bella. Tonight, we are going to burn," Thorin whispered over her lips before he tilted her chin up and kissed her. Hard, bruising, hot, his mouth took possession of hers, branding his touch onto her soul. 

Isabella pulled him closer until the ridge behind his trousers pressed fully against her from her core to her belly button. She needed to be joined with her warrior, to hold him so close no darkness could possibly touch him. 

Wrenching away, Thorin took several rapid steps backward. His thick chest rose and fell in time with her pants, a glazed, fierce look in his eyes. "Bella, my love. We are just getting started." 

He crouched before her, holding her gaze as he leaned down and pressed a kiss high on the inside of her thigh. And another, higher and higher until...

"Thorin!" 

He licked her through the thin fabric of her underclothes. After all the teasing, she just about combusted on the spot from that one touch. 

One yank and the barrier disappeared. "Fuck, Bella, I can see how wet you are from here. I'm going to savor you, lick that gorgeous pussy until you scream my name to the heavens." 

Her hips lifted of their own accord as he gazed down at her. There was so much hunger and love in his gaze, Isabella felt tears crowding her eyes. Thorin caught her knees and draped them over his shoulders, widening her thighs even more. His hands slid behind her rear, holding her in place. 

"Thorin, please!" 

"I love the sound of my name breaking on your sweet tongue. Say it again." He spread her swollen lips open, teasing her clit with a soft finger. 

"Thorin!" 

"Good." Bending his head, Thorin thrust his tongue straight into her. Isabella's head snapped back, her eyes slipping closed, and long, keening cry poured from her lips. 

"Oh, gods, Thorin. Yes, right there. Oh!" Words spilled out of her mouth of their own volition. Higher and higher she climbed toward the peak. She thrashed against Thorin's hold, needing him to send her flying, but then suddenly he stopped. 

Face smeared with her desire, he leaned back with an evil grin. "Perhaps before you become too distracted, I should instruct you in the proper use of pearls."

Isabella gaped at him. What? Why had he stopped? Her muscles twitched and jumped as he slid his hands up and down her legs. She was going to kill him. 

"Are you ready?" The cool pearls slid over her hot skin, closer and closer to the center of her fire. 

Her gaze jumped to his. Even in her dazed state, she didn't believe it. He couldn't possibly mean...

One by one the pearls slipped over her aching clit before following Thorin's finger deep inside her. He whispered soft encouragements as she shifted her hips experimentally. The pearls shifted inside of her and she gasped, the sensations bursting through her. 

A dark and tempting grin stretched Thorin's mouth at her low moan. "Excellent." And then he twisted his finger, rubbing the pearls against her walls, right at that spot without any warning. 

The pearls were everywhere, igniting every nerve until she screamed with frustrated pleasure. Then Thorin brushed a kiss across her clit and drew it into his mouth. She hadn't known pleasure could be like this, be all-consuming. She lost control of her body of her words. Isabella heard herself, begging, pleading, as the insidious pleasure brought her closer to orgasm with each breath she took. The promised ecstasy was like nothing she had ever dreamt of before. All that mattered was the pleasure and the man giving it to her. 

A whispered word of love came that barely penetrated her haze before Thorin began to draw out the pearls, running them one by one over her clit. He didn't stop, even as she climaxed, each one pushing her peak higher and higher until she screamed so loudly she shook the weapons on the walls. 

When the last pearl came out, she was still coming, still screaming. There was a distant clatter and then Thorin's hands were on her hips again. He pulled her to the edge of the chair and thrust inside her. She clamped down on his cock, the thick invasion sending her over again. Eyes shut, Isabella gave herself over to the ecstasy. 

Sanity slowly reasserted itself. Drifting peacefully on the waves of pleasure, Isabella pried her eyes open. Thorin circled his hips, still locked deep inside her.

"Again." He said, voice rough and dangerous. 

Limp, she put up no resistance as he carried her from the chair to lay her on the cool pile of gold coins. "Thorin...I can't." 

"Yes, you can." Strong hands guided her onto all fours. The smooth glide of his thighs against her bottom made her shiver. She rippled around him when he would have pulled back. A deep laugh. "See? You're perfect, Bella, perfect for me." 

He set a hard, fast pace, slamming deep with each thrust. Isabella laid her forehead on the cool gold, arching back up to meet him. "Yes, Thorin! Oh, gods!" 

When her legs slid out from under her, Thorin followed her down, covering her completely in a hot blanket of muscle, the new angle letting his cock hit a bundle of nerves that had her seeing stars.With a raw growl, he fucked her without mercy. The cold gold rubbed against her nipples and stomach, but she hardly felt its hard edges. 

Gods, it felt so good. 

"Mine!" he snarled, ramming deep. "You're mine no matter what happens. Say it!" 

Thorin stilled just as she was about to tip over again when she couldn't get her mouth to form words fast enough. She was so close! All she could concentrate on was the building ball of pleasure in her core. "Say it, Bella." He started to pull back. 

Hands bunching in the treasure, Isabella tried to force her mouth to work. "Yours, Thorin. I'm yours." 

Blissfully, he started to move again. "That's right. Mine. All of this is mine."

He fucked her hard, never pausing to give her a chance to catch her breath. One heartbeat...two...Thorin roared out her name, pumping her full of his seed. Isabella fell into an orgasm so intense, she lost consciousness for a few moments. 

When she recovered, soft linen cradled her cheek and she felt Thorin against her back. Stretching, Isabella couldn't keep an enormous grin off of her face. Sweet acorns, she had missed Thorin's touch. 

But what was it he had yelled before she came?

"Bella." Thorin nuzzled her neck, marveling at the feel of her silky hair beneath his cheek. Gods, he was never going to let another day go by again without kissing her. 

"Bella..."

"Hmm?" She caught his hand that was tracing patterns on her stomach and interlaced their fingers. "Thorin, no matter what happens, just remember that I love you." 

"I love you, too." So damned much. Finally, for a moment, satisfied with gold and sex and possession, the darkness inside him retreated. Breathing freely for the first time in days, he pulled Bella tighter against him. 

He hadn't slept since they came to Erebor, afraid to let himself be vulnerable to the sneaking evil in the mountain. His greatest fear was that it would somehow touch Bella, through him or on its own. He had asked her to stay on the opposite side of the mountain, as far from the piles of gold as possible, just in case. Thorin would risk no harm to her. 

But like a drowning man resigned to his fate, Thorin couldn't resist scrambling for one last breath. Dinner tonight had been his way of saying goodbye no matter what his actions proclaimed. Bella should run far from him before he dragged both of them beneath the waves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! Thorin's descent is in full downward spiral. What is going to happen next?  
> Sorry if you're not a fan of smut. I am and I felt it conveyed some important concepts here. 
> 
> I actually just wrote the epilogue for this story. We still have a ways to get there, but I now know where I'm heading. Much excitement. 
> 
> As always, feel free to comment!


	24. Chapter Twenty-Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They stand on the edge of war....

A soft, lilting voice threaded through Thorin's dreams as he eased back into consciousness. It sounded like Bella, but what on earth was she singing about?

_Sing hey! for the bath at close of day_  
_that washes the weary mud away!_  
_A loon is he that will not sing:_  
_O! Water Hot is a noble thing!_

_O! Sweet is the sound of falling rain,_  
_and the brook that leaps from hill to plain;_  
_but better than rain or rippling streams_  
_is Water Hot that smokes and steams._

_O! Water cold we may pour at need_  
_down a thirsty throat and be glad indeed;_  
_but better is Beer if drink we lack,_  
_and Water Hot poured down the back._

_O! Water is fair that leaps on high_  
_in a fountain white beneath the sky;_  
_but never did fountain sound so sweet_  
_as splashing Hot Water with my feet!_

Mahal, that woman was an odd one. He smiled. He wouldn't have her any other way.

Rolling out of bed, Thorin found a stray pair of pants and tugged them on as he walked to the bathing chambers. Thick steam coated his throat, warming him instantly despite the chilly morning air. Through the light fog, he could make the beguiling image of a long, curved leg pointing out of the hot water, covered in foaming soap. Following the temping line, he found Bella's curly hair, pinned up, as her head bobbed in time to the song.

He must have made some sound because she turned, letting the song die away. "Good morning! I hope I didn't wake you."

Thorin squatted next to the enormous, sunken bowl to claim a kiss. The royal baths were heated with spring water that flowed out of the heart of the mountain. Steaming, hot baths here had been one of the luxuries he had sorely missed since leaving Erebor.

"Waking up to you is never an evil thing," he told her, "especially not when I find you naked and singing."

"Flatterer." She laughed. "Come, join me."

"I would love to, but an emissary from Laketown is arriving this morning. Somehow I doubt he wants to see me clothed only in pants."

"I think it would help the diplomacy." Bella winked. "Give me just a moment and I'll come with you. I want to hear how Bard's children are. I've been terrified for days that they were injured by Smaug."

Guilt kicked at his heart at the concern in her voice. Why hadn't he been worried about that as well? They were good kids.

"I'm sure they're fine, Bella, after all you taught them. Finish your bath, I have to go find Dwalin."

"And join his bath? My, that's a side of you I didn't anticipate."

"Saucy wench," Thorin accused with a gentle pinch. Bella's laughter accompanied him as he dressed and set off back into the main part of the mountain. Figuring that at this hour most of the men would be eating, he took the second flight of stairs down to a lower level where the kitchens were situated.

His mind a whirl, Thorin tried to puzzle through the day, cautious in case any thought was blackened by the curse. He thought himself stronger than any ancient Aztec curse, but wasn't that what they all said just before jumping off the cliff?

He should hear back from Dain soon. News from his cousin was certain to ease his worries. Once he was sure of the security of their borders, Thorin would rest easier.

A jolly clinking followed his footsteps as he took the long way around so he could walk past the huge piles of treasure. Staring at the mountains of gold and gems, Thorin was filled with a strange sense of emptiness. As if something was missing. As if he had arrived at the pinnacle of the mountain, triumphant, only to discover a higher peak on the horizon.

For the past few days he had attributed this...unsettlement to the lack of the Aztec Stone, but what if it was something else? There was something lacking in all of this, in everything. This wasn't the glorious treasure his grandfather had given his life for. There must be something more. All of this had been defiled by Smaug. He had to make it his again or the consequences didn't bear considering. Had he come all this way to have _nothing_?

 

"I, for one, am very fond of this new one," Kili told Isabella as they climbed the steps to the barricade above what used to the front doors of Erebor.

"New what?" she asked, eyes already searching for Thorin. He had seemed almost back to normal this morning, but Dwalin had come back from their conversation ready to punch a wall. What could possibly have happened in so short a time?

_Please be alright, Thorin. Don't make me do what I'm afraid I must._

"Song. Why would you make up a song about bathing? Isn't that the least elegant thing to sing about?"

"I like it," Dwalin growled as they passed him.

"Thank you, dear." Isabella rose up on her toes to kiss his cheek earning her another growl.

"Oh, it's catchy, but...well, it's about bathing," Kili allowed.

"Would you prefer I make up one about you?"

"Somehow I doubt that I would enjoy that."

She grinned. "Wise boy."

It was the last, real smile she had for a very long time.

Bard came and called up to them from the road. Thorin was polite at first, but when Bard mentioned payment for their help in Laketown, all hospitality went straight off the cliff.

Isabella had thought it was agony standing at her parents' funeral realizing she was utterly and truly alone. She had thought it agony crawling through the Goblin caves waiting for clammy fingers to close around her throat. She had thought it agony sitting in her rooms in Erebor for days on end.

All of those were mere irritations compared to what she experienced now. Watching the man she loved disappear beneath greed and pride and power lust that were not his own, watching him turn his back on his friends, on those who needed him, this was agony.

Bard finally realized the futility of his please. His face grew more lined and grave. "Very well. You have brought us to a crisis point. The Elves are sailing this way in force as we speak. I will tear down this mountain single handedly if I must to get help for my people. So answer me this, Thorin Oakenshield: will you have peace or war?"

Isabella took a step toward him, his name catching in his throat. Their gazes met for an aching second. From the force of her will alone, she tried to push the word _peace_ past his lips. She thought, hoped, for a moment that his gaze lightened and the tension in his neck eased.

A raven cawed nearby and Thorin looked away. He took the slash of white from its beak, read the short message, and turned back to Bard. Though Isabella couldn't see his face, she knew the answer before he spoke, a lead weight falling into her gut.

"I would have war."

 

For all the years that were left to Isabella, she remembered very little of her midnight flight from Erebor's cliffs. She remembered using too short of a rope as she clambered down the mountainside, having to climb with her fingers and toes for the last thirty meters. Then came the achingly slow journey across the Long Strait to where the fleet of Elves now anchored. They had arrived in mid afternoon, just within canon distance from their prows. Isabella had to take care not to make too much noise splashing her oars into the water just in case some proud pirate ears were listening.

Finally, cursing and shivering, she arrived at the fanciest ship in the fleet. It took some interesting maneuvers to scale the side of the boat- ship, gods hang it!- and not get stabbed by the patrolling guards.

As awful as it was, however, nothing swayed Isabella from her determined course. She would do anything to save her crew, and even though this might seem like a betrayal, it was the only way forward that she could see.

"-army sailing this way now. The Orcs will outnumber you if you insist on attacking Thorin." A familiar voice trickled into her ears as she headed for the captain's quarters.

Oh, thank the gods. Gandalf was here. He would know what to do. Isabella crept closer. Three figures, outlined in lantern light, stood in the cabin. Each of them stood in aggressive stances, fists balled at their sides.

Gandalf stood closest to the door, his long robes swishing with his irritation. His wooden cane rested against the wall next to him. Puffs of smoke from his pipe floated up with each word. "What do you think I'm trying to do? Betray you? I am one of the Five!"

"I think," Thranduil said in a calm, cool tone, "that you are trying to save your pirate friends from the course you started them upon. I empathize with your loyalty, but it will not stop me. You started this, Mithrandir; forgive me if I finish it."

Isabella twisted her hands into her skirts. The arrogant bastard! Did he not realize there were bigger issues at play than his own greed and injured pride? Did he not see that the taint of the treasure had leaked into him as well?

"You, bowman!" Gandalf turned to the other man in the cabin. "Do you agree with this? Will you see this come to war?"

"It will not," Bard's deep voice replied. "The pirates must know that this is a fight they cannot win."

A bitter smile twisted Isabella's mouth as she stepped into the room. "And you imagine that will stop them? Tell me, when was the last time you knew a pirate to surrender? These men will fight to the bitter end to protect their own."

Three startled faces turned to her. Gandalf let out a long puff of smoke with a smile. "Isabella Baggins!"

She leaned over to hug him, needing his reassurance as much, if not more, as she had when she was a child. "Hello, Godfather."

"This must be the Halfling thief who stole the keys to my dungeons out from under the nose of my guards," Thranduil said, suddenly sounding a lot less icy.

Clearing her throat, Isabella shuffled her feet. She had hoped they would move past that. "Err...yes. Sorry about that, my lord."

Bard chuckled into a fist.

"I came," she stepped toward Thranduil where he stood behind the desk, "to give you this."

The silence that followed could have swallowed the world. All of them gazed down at what she laid on the desk: a perfect pearl with a reddish cloud wafting around it. The depths of the universe swirled in that stone, promising riches and wonders beyond imagining. For a price.

"The Aztec Stone," Thranduil breathed. "The King's Jewel."

Bard glowered at the stone. "And worth a king's ransom. How is this yours to give, my lady?"

"I took it as my fourteenth share of the treasure," she said as evenly as she could. If Thorin ever found out about this, he would never forgive her. A horrible urge overcame her to snatch it back and run. Run back to the mountain and ignore the world outside.

But it wouldn't work. Isabella knew that. She would gladly sacrifice her happiness if it meant Thorin and the others would live. He could hate her as long as he lived and had the chance to find happiness again.

"Thorin," his name came out with difficulty, "loves this stone above all else. I believe that if you ransom it for what you are owed, he will give it to you. There will be no need for war."

Gandalf gazed at her for a moment while Bard and Thranduil exchanged looks. His warm hand settled on her shoulder. "Wisdom comes with a price, child mine. I'm sorry to see you pay it, but I am glad to see its results."

"Why?" Bard's question made her look up. "You owe us nothing, lady. We have nothing to give in return for your efforts."

"I'm not doing it for you," she snapped. _Deep breaths, Isabella._ "I know you see pirates in the worst possible light, and, believe me, I know that they are rude and uncouth and horrible dinner guests, but they are also kind and loving and loyal to a fault. I will do anything I can to save them."

Thranduil considered her for a long moment. "Very well. We shall give your pirates one last chance. Your godfather is right, Lady Baggins, your wisdom might just save us all."

Isabella pulled Bard to the side when the preparations began. "Your children, are they safe?"

He smiled though he looked as exhausted as she felt. "They are fine, yes. Somehow we all made it out alive. They are back on the ships the Elves lent us with a neighbor."

Sitting down abruptly when her legs buckled, Isabella sent a prayer skyward. Maybe everything would be worth it if they were safe. The children should have every opportunity that peace could provide. She would do anything to keep them from witnessing the horrors of war. "Thank the gods. I have been so worried."

"You are a kind woman, Lady Baggins. I am honored to have met you."

"I will say the same about you. Only not the woman part." She winked.

Bard gave a rough chuckle. "Aye. May we spend happier times together soon. I hope that your loyalty to Thorin is not misplaced. Oftentimes it is those we love who hurt us the most."

 

 

 

The Elves had arrived and Bard was back. That oaf Thranduil stepped off the boat behind the Laketown man, waltzing forward as if he were about to join a party.

Thorin's lip curled, fingers tapping against the bow in his hands. He would give him a party.

"Thorin." Bella stepped up beside him. She looked awful: bloodshot golden eyes, weary posture. She looked as if they had already lost the war. Didn't she see that there was no force on the planet that could tear them from all they had conquered? "Please, listen to them. We are outnumbered and wrong. War is never the answer."

"Wrong?" he snarled. "Wrong to defend what is ours? Wrong to protect my family honor? Wrong to-"

"Yes." The simple word brought him up short. "You are wrong to view it this way. Never, in all our time together, did you view conquering Erebor as a means to the treasure. It was a way to help your people. Well, look around you, Thorin. Your people are suffering because you will not listen to reason."

"They are suffering because they are failures! Still we have not found the Stone! Still we have not secured Erebor! What will we do when the other pirates arrive and we have no King's Jewel?"

Her eyes grew more sunken. "I do not know who is standing before me, but it is not the man I love."

A flickering in the back of his mind made him pause. She wasn't right, she couldn't be. But was she? His voice came out rough, desperate. "Stay with me, Bella. Please."

Her hand slipped into his grasp, knocking the bow to the floor. For a second, she almost smiled. "Remember, Thorin, no matter what-"

"I love you," he finished. It was true for him as well, even when he seemed to forget it. Where would he be without her?

The men assembled around them as Bard, Thranduil, and Gandalf- when had he arrived- stopped near the gates of Erebor.

"We have come one last time to bargain with you," Thranduil called up.

Hah! Imbecile. "Bargain? You have nothing I want!"

A dangerous light overcame the Elf's face. "Do I not?"

Bard reached into his ragged vest and pulled out an orb wrapped in leather. "Thorin Oakenshield, we are not asking for much. Though you gave your word that your aid would come without asking, we are forced to resort to this. Do you not care that my children are starving, my people dying? Do you not care that Orcs are sailing for your shores and will find you friendless and alone? No, I suppose not. Yield us the promised aid, and we will give you this."

The world froze. In Bard's hand was the Aztec Stone. There was no mistaking it. The dark tail, the opalescent glow, the red aura of power.

"No." He wouldn't believe it. He couldn't. "That is a fake! You try to trick me, bargeman? I will not stand for it!"

"It is not a fake," Bella said quietly.

Every man turned to her.

"Bella..." He turned her name into a plea. Not her. Not when everyone else was failing him.

Her golden gaze was unwavering. "I gave it to them last night in an attempt to make you see sense. Please, Thorin, help them."

Of their own accord, his hands lashed out and wrapped around her throat. He dragged her to the edge of the overlook. "YOU WOULD BETRAY ME! AFTER EVERYTHING! FALSE WHORE!"

Bella didn't struggle, just watched him with that agonized gaze.

"If you do not like my choice in burglar that is fine! But I must insist you return her in one piece," Gandalf bellowed, striding forward as if to catch his traitorous goddaughter.

"THORIN!" Harsh hands pulled him away from Bella as the men rushed to protect her. Kili pressed a rope into her hands and Fili anchored it around a stone.

Struggling against Dwalin, Thorin tried to leap after her. He would see her dead for what she had done! How could she have deceived him so well? He had loved her and this was how she would repay him?

Bella paused, one foot on the top rock, the rope held loosely in her hand. Dark smudges of bruises were already beginning to form on her pale neck. It was that blow to his conscience that allowed her next words to penetrate. "I know you believe what I did was without honor, without courage or love. But that is wrong. I did what I believed to be right because of love. The love I hold for the crew, for the people of Laketown, for my godfather. But most of all, the love I hold for you. I will do anything for you, Thorin, even tear us apart if it means you will be happier for it. I want you to live. To rule over Erebor with all the kindness and wisdom I know you possess. And if that means, I won't be by your side, then I can accept that. But if you continue down this path, dishonor your word, forsake your allies, betray the trust of your crew, you might still rule a kingdom one day. A kingdom of corpses with no one but the wind to sing in your memory."

Without looking behind her, Bella pushed off from the rock and dropped out of his sight.

Out of his life.

Gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aha! An update! That took way longer than it should have but life has been an absolute rat race lately.  
> I hope everyone's enjoying the start to fall!  
> We are nearly the climax now! Not too much longer until we decide who lives and who dies! Da da da....  
> Can you believe it's been a year since I first started this? Insane! It's been so much fun to write!


	25. Chapter Twenty-Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Battle of the Five Armies begins

Isabella stood on the deck of Thranduil's ship, watching the horror unfold. A fleet of Orc ships had arrived in the night, cannon fire sending false stars into the sky. Caught by surprise, a third of the Elven ships had fallen within an hour. Desperate fights raged between the Elves and the Orcs in the water, on ship decks, between belches of canon fire.

The noise was incredible. Bright light kept searing her eyes as the sun crested the horizon. She couldn't keep track of what all was happening. Unfortunately, she didn't really need to. The Elves and Laketown men were losing.

"My lady," a Mirkwood Elf took her elbow, "you would be safer below decks."

"Undoubtedly." She extricated her arm and walked over to where her godfather had just appeared. "Gandalf! What is going on?"

"Bolg," he spat. "He is commanding this massacre. He has set up camp over on Ravenhill, waiting for Thorin to emerge. I doubt that he views this whole battle as anything more than a way to end his vendetta against the pirates."

" _What?_ "

"Yes. And more ships are approaching from the east. They aren't flying any colors so it must be more Orcs."

Isabella frowned, her fingers worrying the hilt of her dagger. No movement came from Erebor. "Bolg will head straight for the mountain."

"Aye. He is amassing his troops to get closer to Erebor."

She turned to watch the new ships approach. "Those don't look like ships from Mordor. They are too..."

"Well kept. I agree." Gandalf considered this. "I'll be damned. It's Dain!"

She blinked. "Dain?"

"Thorin's cousin. He watches over the Iron Hills to the east. Much like Thorin, he holds little love for either Orcs or Elves."

"We could talk-"

"And of the two," Gandalf continued, "I've always found Thorin the more reasonable."

"So Fate is once again laughing at us."

He gave her a sharp look. "Believing in Fate is to deny your own freewill. That is not who you are, Isabella. Do not give into desperation."

He was right. Acknowledging the horrible ache inside her was an exercise in self-pity and cowardice. Isabella nodded sharply. "Oft hope is born when all is forlorn."

"There is the woman I raised."

She smiled. "I will talk with Dain and warn the pirates about Bolg."

Before he could respond, Bard barreled onto the ship's deck. "More Orcs are approaching. They sailed around the backside of the Isle."

Isabella spun as though she could see through the mountain. "No! We'll be overrun! The pirates will be slaughtered!"

No one could think of any words to comfort her.

 

 

The cold treasure offered little comfort to Thorin's racing, feverish mind as he paced around and around the throne room. Solid gold, the Crown of the Kings sunk further and further into his mind, boring through his head as though seeking to rule his thoughts as well as the kingdom.

 _A kingdom of corpses._ The whisper came out of the darkness, slithering, sensual, and terrible.

Whipping around, Thorin found Bella walking out of the shadows as tangible as the wind. Only the specter was Bella as he had never seen her before. Hair pinned up in exquisite braids, jewels cloaking her ears and neck over a high fashion gown of pure gold, her expression was as remote and cold as her beauty. There was no laughter there, no light.

Instinct warned him to back away, but he couldn't resist one last chance to touch her. The vision of her dropping off the cliff had been plaguing him even as anger over her betrayal roiled in his gut.

 _You have failed us, Thorin Oakenshield. You are no king of mine._ Dwalin stepped out of the shadows behind Thorin. Just like Bella's ghost, this spirit was greater and more terrible than his real first mate. A fire burned behind Dwalin's black eyes, its flames licking against Thorin's soul, burning him with more pain than he had ever felt before.

"No, Dwalin, don't you see?" He gestured at his crown. "Things will be better. As king I'll-"

 _You forsook your word, Thorin. That alone makes you a coward_. Bella's lip curled in contempt. _I do not love a coward._

"I am no coward," he snarled.

 _Oh?_ Her mocking gaze slid over his crown. _Yes, you are the epitome of courage holed up in here while a battle rages outside. Tell me again how you plan to protect the innocent lives of the people of Laketown._

"That isn't my concern-"

_Is it not? Well, then I have mistaken you, Thorin Oakenshield._

_Your loss is my gain._ Another voice entered the fray. From behind Bella stepped the man Thorin hated above all others.

"Bolg!" He drew his sword even though he knew this wasn't real.

The mutilated man grinned, wrapping his arms around Bella's slim waist. _Come, Lady Baggins. You promised me a dance._

 _Look at what you have become_ , Dwalin intoned, _a faithless lord to your people. Worse than the likes of Bolg._ He faded from sight when Thorin would have responded.

Bolg began to pull Bella away. She went willingly, but stopped just before the edge of the shadows. _Look inside yourself, is this what you really want?_ She gestured at the jewelry and at Bolg. Green swirled in her gaze, more beautiful than any gemstone. _Goodbye, Thorin._

The ghosts disappeared and Thorin was left in an empty, echoing throne room. The crown on his head pressed him down, down until he fell to his knees. He reached for the nearest jewel- a huge diamond the size of his fist. It was perfect in every way from the clarity to the cut. But it was empty. It wasn't flecked with green and full of laughter. It was just a rock.

He had betrayed his crew. Become what he had sworn he wouldn't. Defiled the name of Durin.

And worst of all, he had lost Bella. Hurt her.

Thorin had had something, something more precious than all the jewels in Erebor, held it with his hands, and he had dropped it. Watched it shatter with uncaring eyes.

And for what?

The gold surrounding laughed in ethereal chimes that followed his descent into darkness.

 

 

"We must do something!" Isabella cried as she spun into a crouch to avoid an axe blow to the head. "The pirates will be massacred in that mountain."

Thranduil just stared at her. "I have lost enough of my people already. I will not lose any more."

"You faithless coward! You would stand by and watch the people of Laketown die?"

"I will fight for them, but not for the pirates." He whipped his sword in a glittering arc that decapitated three Orcs. "That is your task, my lady."

"So be it." Isabella rammed her dagger into an Orc's stomach when he tried to catch her by the hair. "Godfather!"

She lept backwards, but didn't move quickly enough to avoid a dagger swipe across her chest. The blade sliced through her bodice and then shattered against her undershirt. Both the Orc and Isabella paused to blink down at the pearl-white links that caged her chest. Thorin had given the undershirt to her their first day in the mountain, insisting she wear it everywhere. Tears stung her eyes as she realized just how much he had wanted to protect her, no matter what the curse made it seem.

"Mithril," she explained on a shrug.

"Oh, fuck," the Orc replied. It was the last thing he said before Gandalf thrust a sword through his chest.

"Aye, child. I am here." He took in the plan with one look at her face. "This is too dangerous. Let someone else go."

"With all due respect, godfather, I am not asking your permission. I am simply stating a fact. All I need is a small distraction."

A twinkle appeared in Gandalf's bright blue eyes even as blood splattered across his face from an unfortunate Orc. "That I can do. You are not the same Hobbit who left Bag End, child mine."

"No," she agreed with a heavy heart, once more looking at the mountain, "I am not."

She had to hack and fight her way across the deck of the ship to an oar boat docked against the side. Halfway across the sea that ran red with blood, she felt Gandalf's distraction. The shock wave reached her first, knocking her backward, almost overboard. Then she saw flames and flying debris and screaming bodies scattering to the wind.

Somehow that utter nutball had blown up an Orc ship.

"One day," Isabella promised herself as she ducked a smoldering piece of wood, "I will learn all of his tricks."

 

 

The whole crew sat on the broken balcony overlooking the Long Strait. All of them gripped weapons, feet bouncing as though it took their entire willpower to keep sitting still. Thorin hesitated at the back of the balcony. His fault. His fault.

"Thorin!" Balin caught sight of him. His eyes widened when he took in Thorin's state. No robes. No crown. Just Thorin.

"Uncle!" Fili lept to his feet. "The Orcs are winning! We have to help them."

"We cannot stay here any longer doing _nothing_!" Kili cried.

Fili stood shoulder to shoulder with his brother. "We will fight! That is what is in our blood. Not _this._ "

Thorin met his nephews' gazes squarely. "You are right. It is not in our blood to hide in this mountain while others fight our battles."

Jaws dropped before breaking into smiles. Dwalin clapped Thorin on the back as he led the others in dropping to one knee. "My king."

"Up! We cannot waste any more time. The curse of the Erebor has retreated, but I fear we face a greater evil. Dain has arrived, but he has no head for strategy." Thorin nodded to the approaching fleet. "We must reach his ships."

"Wait! What is that?" Bofur pointed at a small boat heading across the increasing choppy waters. He pulled out a spy glass. "I don't fucking believe it. That woman is missing more than her marbles."

Thorin's heart dropped. He didn't need to look into the glass to know who it was. Did that woman have no sense? For all she knew, he was still ready to shoot her at fifty paces. That wasn't even taking into account the battle raging all around her. "I'm going to kill her."

The crew all flinched.

He held up his hands immediately. "I meant metaphorically. Bella needs a lesson in common sense. I swear on my life I will do her no harm again. Somehow I have to make that up to her."

Bombur grunted. "I'd start with an apology. If we make it out of here alive."

"That's the spirit. Come on. Dain will swing wide to the east end of the harbor." Thorin led the way out of the mountain and to the docks. He had lost track of Bella. Her boat was beached, but there was no mass of curls scrambling up the rocky shore.

What was he going to say to her? What _could_ he say to her? Nothing either of them could say would erase his actions or her betrayal. How could they possibly go forward from here?

"It'll work out." Bofur clapped him on the shoulder. "As long as we don't get murdered in some horrible way before you get a chance to talk to her."

"Optimism runs in your family, I see." He drew his sword and warmed up his wrist. He wouldn't put it past the Orcs to have lain an ambush for them.

Dain hailed them as they reached the far marina. Standing on the docks, his mane of red hair flowed in the breeze, adding more tangles to the mess. Strong features broke into a wide smile at the sight of him. "Thorin!"

"Cousin! It's good to see you." They embraced roughly. "What can you tell me?"

"The Orcs are assailing those yellow-blooded Elves. Somehow they and the Laketown men are holding their own, but it's only a matter of time before they break. We need to crack the Orcs first."

"Thorin!"

He swore that Bella just popped out of thin air, stepping into visibility from one heartbeat from the next. But that was impossible. She must have just moved from his peripheral vision. "Bella?"

"The Orcs." She bent double to catch her breath. "Gods, one of these days I'm going to learn not to run in a corset."

"Take your time, lassie," Dain said politely, taking her in. "Is any of that blood on your pretty dress yours?"

"No. Orc. Bleh. I smell foul, damned creatures. They overran the Elven position until Thranduil managed to push them back." Bella raised her head and met his gaze. Against his will, Thorin traced the line of her throat to the damning bruises on her flesh. Gods, he deserved to burn in hell for hurting her. "It's Bolg."

" _What?_ "

She nodded, gulping air. When he made a movement toward her, she took a discrete step behind Dwalin, disguising it as a motion to shake water from her hemline. "He's up on Ravenhill, commanding the battle. He's laid a trap for you."

"How do you know this?" Dain demanded.

"Gandalf. And," his heart stopped as she added, "I just scouted it out. Oh, don't look like that. I wasn't seen. I'm a better sneak than that. He's waiting up there with his top lieutenants."

Thorin grinned. Laid a trap had he? Well, he would just have to show Bolg that Orcs needed to be careful that they didn't turn from the hunter to the hunted. "Excellent. Then we cut the head off this snake with one blow."

"Thorin, you can't! It's too dangerous!" Bella made an instinctive motion toward him before she caught herself. "He'll shoot you from fifty paces. He won't fight fair."

But Dain mirrored his smile. "Aye. And we'll take care of the body." Turning, he bellowed to his ships, "Hard to starboard! We're going to take this bastards on a one way trip to Davy Jones's locker! All hands to the canons!"

Thorin sent half of his men with Dain, keeping Dwalin and his nephews with him. Stealth and surprise would be the key here, not a large force. "We take down Bolg at any cost."

"Thorin," Bella whispered as the others moved past her.

Careful to keep his motions slow and non-threatening, Thorin stepped before her and caught her chin in his palm. Wiping away the tears that he suspected she didn't realize were falling, he memorized each line of her face, how the universe was contained in her gaze. "Smile for me, Bella. One last time." The dread uncoiling in his gut warned him how this confrontation with Bolg was likely to end. But if he could see Bella's smile one last time, it would all be worth it.

Trembling, she moved her lips upward. "I'm coming with you."

"Absolutely not. It's too dangerous."

Her smile turned genuine. He traced her lips, committing her light to memory. "You don't say. I'll just follow you."

He scowled, only to be rewarded by Bella's flinch. Each time he had a flicker of hope that she would be safe, he realized just how deeply he had hurt her. "Fine. Then, together."

Those were the last words he spoke to her for a very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you hear my evil cackle through the internet? 
> 
> I'll do my best to update soon, probably within the next two weeks if I get these reports done. So sorry (well, not really) for the cliffhanger and the relatively short chapter. More to come soon!


	26. Chapter Twenty-Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Reckoning has come

Isabella told the men she would scout ahead since she could turn invisible with the help of the Ring, which they didn't know, and because she was the stealthiest, which they did, but it was mostly excuse to get away from Thorin. Standing next to him, watching her betrayal play out again and again behind his eyes was simply too painful. Here they were walking straight into certain death and she might never have a chance to explain and say she was sorry for not being able to find another way.

Inch by inch she picked her way across dune, the wet sand clinging in her toes like the fear clotting in her throat. All this time she had thought the final reckoning would come on the prow of a ship with the screams of cannon fire covering her own shrieks, or under the hot breath of a man more dragon than human. Instead, it seemed, the final days of her life would come on a sandy hill surrounded by a sea of blood.

This sense had been growing inside her for a while now, ever since the confrontation with Gollum in the caves. Whatever was about to happen, Isabella would not survive this quest. The thought of dying didn't scare her; she made it a point to live without regrets, and the thought of immortality had never sat well with her. And if she were to die today, on this stark hill at the hands of a monster, then she would have it be such an end that Bolg would never again threaten those she loved.

Indistinct murmurs came from up ahead. Stopping, Isabella made sure the rise of the sand dune covered her before she tugged off the Ring and waved at the pirates behind her. Apparently some of Dwalin's lessons had stuck because she felt her hands twist into the correct signs for _ten meters, five enemies, undetermined weapons_.

As the men caught up to her, Isabella braced her legs in the sand and peeked her head over the crest in the dunes. Warm hands caught her around the waist when she began to slip down the sand, and she didn't need to look to recognize that touch. Attempting to concentrate on what she was seeing and not the ice cold blast of agonized longing, Isabella caught sight of Bolg pacing back and forth across the flat top of a hill, one hundred meters away up another dune. Below him, just ten meters from her, were two Orcs stood on left while a group of strangely deformed men were on the right.

"Goblins," Fili breathed in her ear. He had followed her up the dune.

"I've never...what's wrong with them?"

"Leper colony though I think they've picked up a few other diseases. You missed them and caught another sort of depravity in the caves." He helped her back down before turning to the others. "Ten Goblin mercenaries."

"Bolg's up, closer to the mountain. He's on the hill as close to Erebor as the coward thinks he can come," Isabella added.

"Mercenaries are no problem. Leave them to me." Dwalin hefted his twin axes.

Thorin said nothing, gazing up at the hill where Bolg was. She didn't have to see his face to know what he was thinking. Very well. She'd simply go with him.

"No!" Kili hissed, eyes going wide as he caught sight of something to their left. "Tauriel!"

Before anyone could say anything, he was gone. Racing across the sand and pulling out his bow. Immersed in a grim battle with five Orcs, the red headed Elf fought with elegance, grace, and resignation. Tauriel knew they were fighting a losing battle as surely as she knew her odds, no matter how good a fighter she was, were slim. But, as Isabella had come to realize, this was a battle that must be fought despite the odds.

"Doesn't have a fucking brain in his head," Fili snarled. He turned to his uncle. "I'll take down the Orcs to get you a clear path and then go bail out Kili."

"Don't be too hard on him." Thorin smiled, thumping Fili on the back. "Love kills reason."

Isabella's head snapped up. What did that mean?

"Let's go. Bolg won't stay here for long." Thorin unsheathed his sword. He turned to her, but she refused to let him say 'stay here', so she simply marched up the hill. A very large sigh came from behind her putting a smile on her face as she headed up to meet her end.

 

 

That infuriating woman walked straight into an Orc defensive point armed with nothing more than a dagger. No, that was being generous. Armed with nothing more than a letter opener. If Bolg didn't kill Thorin, Bella certainly would one day because of heart failure.

Dwalin grinned. "Knew I liked that girl. What'd you have to go around throwing her off ledges for?"

Snarling to himself as his men scattered, Thorin tore up the sand dune after Bella, the unsteady footing pulling him back down with every step. He bulled forward and soon crested the dune on the hem of Bella's skirts.

They had the element of surprise as they launched themselves at the Orcs and Goblins. Dwalin practically threw himself atop the first group of men with a bellow loud enough to shake the whole mountain. Bella didn't hesitate either; she took a stuttered half step to avoid the first wild blow by the Orc, ducked under his arm, and rammed her letter opener into his gut before spinning away to attack his mate.

Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.

But Thorin couldn't afford to be distracted. Bolg had paused with Dwalin's yell and now stood still, watching Thorin with an unbearably smug grin. Fili was handling the three Orcs well though none were on the ground, so Thorin didn't risk interfering. Instead, he swung his sword to warm up his wrist and followed Bolg's tracks up to the top of the hill.

 

 

That idiotic man headed straight into danger with no backup and no armor. Had he lost his bloody mind?

Isabella moved to race after him, but an Orc blocked her way. Twisted face set in a leering scowl, he twirled his bastard sword through the air between them. "Lady Baggins. My lord thought you might come. He has requested an audience with you."

Arresting the motion of her dagger toward his abdomen, Isabella frowned. "Why?"

"He wishes to make you an offer." The Orc bowed and gestured her to the left. "My word on your safety to his presence."

Well, what choice did she have? If she could convince Bolg to take her instead of slaughtering everyone here, that wasn't a choice at all.

She insisted that the Orc go first and she refused to put away her weapon as they climbed a switchback trail to the top of the hill. From Ravenhill, she could see the whole battle raging below: the sinking ships, the broken masts with bodies impaled upon their splinters, the screaming soldiers fighting on even when they were surrounded by the enemy.

So many dead. So much pain. And for what? Why did the Orcs care so much about Erebor? It couldn't be solely because of the hatred between Bolg and Thorin. Why would they come with such a force for a mountain in the middle of nowhere when they made no move to take the treasure?

The Orc stopped, bowed, and then departed with one last sneer in her direction. Isabella ignored him and turned to face Bolg. The viceroy turned to her, smiling. Bandages wrapped his throat from where she had hit him all those weeks ago. Brutal satisfaction swirled through her at the sight. "Lady Baggins. How kind of you to come."

She stopped a few meters away from him, to the left and behind of Thorin. "As you say."

"I would like to extend an offer of peace to you."

"I am hardly the superior commanding officer here, lord." There must be a reason he looked so unbearably smug.

"Perhaps, but nevertheless I will make it to you. You have always had a way of convincing people to do your will, Lady Baggins."

Somehow that didn't sound like a compliment.

"What is your offer?"

"Don't play games, Bolg. Let us settle this," Thorin snapped.

Both Bolg and Isabella ignored him.

"Come with me and I'll call off my troops."

She blinked. It couldn't be that easy. "Come with you where?"

"To Cuba."

Ah, of course. "For how long?"

"Do you remember the offer I once made you?"

How could she could possibly forget? He had cornered her in Lord Saruman's ballroom and presented her with...well, it wasn't so much a marriage proposal as it was an assumption that she would simply say yes and be grateful for it.

"I do."

Thorin growled low in his throat. Isabella didn't dare look away from Bolg, but she had a feeling that this was the last nail in the coffin of their relationship. Breath came in short, sharp slices, but she couldn't think of anything else to do.

"I would like to exchange the same offer. My wife, you remember her, Catrina? Yes, she unfortunately has passed away recently. I do so hate to be lonely, and I have always been disappointed that Catrina, Mandos rest her soul, was not the fairest in all the Shire. Come with me, Lady Baggins, and I shall spare the lives of your friends." He smiled, well aware of how caught she was.

"Just to be clear, if I come with you, you will call off all of your troops, leave this place in peace, and never come back?" she asked. A second of pity and regret was spared for Catrina, but she couldn't afford to lose concentration. "If that is the deal," a deep breath, "I accept."

Bolg appeared to consider this for a long moment, gazing out over the battling ships. "That does seem magnanimous of me."

"Yes," she agreed, "that it does." But she had made her deal with the devil and now she must accept the terms.

Bolg hummed. "Very well, you've talked me out of it. How about I just take you and kill everyone instead?"

Isabella smiled, sensing the Orcs coming up from behind her. None of them were half as stealthy as they should be. Surely elephants were quieter than this. "I figured that would be your answer." In one swift motion, she pulled her dagger and threw it at him, diving forward to avoid an attack from behind.

As if sensing her thoughts, Thorin moved at the exact same time. Between one heartbeat and the next, he closed the space between him and Bolg, sword swinging.

Isabella rose to her feet, forced to stay in a crouch to avoid the next strike, but she saw her dagger sticking out of Bolg's right shoulder. Damn, a few more inches down and she would have hit his heart. Still, maybe it would be enough to help Thorin....

Without a weapon, all she could do was dodge the vicious swipes two Orcs aimed at her abdomen, steadily pushing her back to the edge of the hill.

"DON'T KILL HER!" Bolg bellowed. "SHE'S MINE!"

Isabella darted to the left to avoid a slice at her temple and ran straight into the other Orc's fist. A blinding wave of pain and she dropped to her knees. She couldn't see, she couldn't think.

One more blow to the back of her head and she knew no more.

 

 

"DON'T KILL HER! SHE'S MINE!"

Thorin smiled humorlessly as he strode toward Bolg. How could this monster ever understand that Bella was so much more than someone to dangle on his arm? Whatever happened today, whether or not they won or lost, Thorin would make certain that Bella no longer had to be afraid of this man. It was there in her voice every time she talked about it, how rigidly she held herself, how she had been willing to give up everything just to save them. Well, no longer. After today, she would be free.

"You are a fool, Bolg," Thorin taunted as they began to circle each other. "She will never be yours. No matter how you scheme or manipulate, Bella will never be yours. She loves me."

Bolg's face split in an ugly grimace. "Love is nothing. Duty, honor, loyalty. Isabella will learn these things or feel the lashes of my wrath. Her first lesson will be to learn the folly of going against the might of Mordor by watching me kill you. She loves you, you say? Then imagine how she will feel when my sword slams through you."

Thorin quirked an eyebrow. "Such confidence. Yet the only one I see wounded is you. A few inches lower and Bella and I would be cackling over your corpse."

A flicker of rage ignited in Bolg's light gaze. "Let's put that to the test, shall we?" The words had barely fallen from his lips when he charged.

Forced to backpedal quickly, Thorin let Bolg gain ground, easily parrying his rapid strikes. Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. Thorin sidestepped, kicking Bolg in the knee to buy time.

He turned just in time to catch sight of two Orcs disappearing down the hill, chasing a flash of blonde as Fili shot past, and--Thorin's heart stopped-- Bella collapsing to the ground, blood smearing her face, eyes closed. She dropped without a sound and lay still on the ground.

"Bella!" He started toward her when a searing line of fire across his back brought him back to reality. He wouldn't be able to do anything for her until Bolg was dead.

Spinning, Thorin brought his sword down in a two handed cleave that sent Bolg sprawling. The Orc recovered quickly, sending a rapid flurry of slashes Thorin just managed to turn away. He was able to block the sword strikes, but not his fist. His head snapped back, and the world went soft around the edges.

Thorin spat out a rivulet of blood, nodded to Bolg, and they set into a hard, rough, long fight.

Strike after strike was blocked, glancing away at the last minute, drawing just a small stream of blood on an arm, a chest, a leg. They were too evenly matched.

Block, block, strike. Thorin fell into a rhythm, leading him around the hill top, hoping Bolg would make a mistake. Minute by minute the Orc's right arm lagged just a little bit longer courtesy of the dagger sticking out of his shoulder. Thorin was bleeding and feeling the gnawing grasp of exhaustion take hold, but Bolg was going paler, his movements less sure.

 _Slip up, damn you_. Thorin gritted his teeth and waited.

But no mistakes were forthcoming. All he could think of was Bella- fading bit by bit, her blood staining the limestone and sand of Ravenhill.

 _To hell with this_. If Thorin had to die, so be it, but he would take Bolg with him. Bolg would never touch Bella again.

He took one last glance at her, memorizing the line of her pert nose, the rich auburn highlights in her hair, the feel of the sun on his face, the hope that his nephews were alive, before he went for it.

This was for them. This was for her. This, this was so his forefathers would know peace and Thorin himself would have finally accomplished protecting his people.

Thorin pretended to slip on a jutting clump of dirt. Windmilling, he landed hard on his back, blade thumping uselessly into the ground. Bolg let out a triumphant yell. The tip of his sword blazed toward Thorin's chest

Wait for it....wait for it....NOW!

Ducking his head down for protection, Thorin twisted to the side and thrust upward with all his might. Solid resistance, then sickly soft meat.

He had one glorious moment of triumph as he saw the fear and realization of death erupt in Bolg's face, and then he felt the bite of steel slide into his abdomen.

Summoning up strength born of pain and desperation, Thorin shoved Bolg off of him and slit his throat just to be certain. It took the last of his strength to tug the hooked sword out of his stomach and crawl over to Bella, smearing blood into the sand. He didn't give the corpse of his enemy a second glance.

His strength gave out two feet from Bella and he collapsed into the ground. Mahal, could he not even touch her this one last time?

"Thorin?" He thought he imagined the whisper until soft hands brushed hair and dirt out of his face. "Thorin! Oh gods above!"

A burst of pain. Bella had placed her hands over the wound, pressing into his wound to stem the flow of blood. "Hold still, Thorin! It's all going to alright. Stay with me." She looked around wildly. "GANDALF! HELP!"

"Bella." He coughed, only mildly alarmed by the taste of blood in his mouth. Darkness was once again encroaching on the world and instinct warned him that this was the end. "Are you hurt?"

"N-no," tears started to mix with the blood on Bella's pale face, "just a bump on the head. Don't you worry, we'll have you fixed up in a thrice."

"Bella....I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "No! No, Thorin, don't you dare! I won't let you."

He smiled. Always so stubborn. "Listen, Bella. Please." He couldn't give into the peaceful dark until he apologized.

"F-fine."

"I'm sorry that I hurt you. But it's over now. You can go home. Go back to your books and your armchairs and your garden. I-" he coughed, spouting up more blood, "like the thought of you comfortable, safe."

"Thorin..."

"You'll take care of them all, won't you? Tell my sister everything is safe now?"

"Of course. We can do that together."

It was a monumental effort to raise up his hand and cup her face. Bella turned her chin to kiss his palm, hot tears scorching his skin. "Promise me one thing."

"Anything. As long as you _hold on_. Don't leave me, Thorin."

If only he could promise that. "Promise me, that wherever life takes you, you'll choose the path that makes....makes you happy. Promise me that you'll keep smiling."

"I'll smile for the rest of my life if you don't give in."

He smiled. "Bella, my beautiful Bella. You are the wisest of us all, Bella. If more of us valued your ways- food and cheer above hoarded gold- it would be a merrier world."

"Thorin!"

"Farewell." There were many things in his life he regretted, but loving Bella would never be one of them. That was the only treasure he could take with him and he would be the richest man in the afterlife. She was a miracle he didn't deserve and he would wait for her forever in the halls of the dead just to hear her laugh one last time.

The darkness swallowed him to the sound of her shriek and he knew no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! All the feels!


	27. Chapter Twenty-Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the battle

It had been three days and his goddaughter showed no signs of giving up. Hour after hour she labored in the healing tent, tending to the three children of Durin. Fili and Kili's wounds were mostly superficial but the sheer number of injuries they had and how much blood they had lost before they had been found...their prospects were bleak. But, Gandalf, told himself, they were young and healthy, and under Isabella's care, they should recover. 

Thorin was another matter. 

His gut wound had punctured his stomach wall. The Elvish healers said he had gone septic.The very blood in his veins was poison. It would be kinder, they said, to slip a little monkshood into his tonic than give life to hope. 

After that proclamation, Isabella had banned that healer from the tent. 

Gandalf did his best to aid her, calling on every ancient herb lore he possessed and more than a pinch of magic. It came to the point where he became just as worried about Isabella as he did the men. She barely ate or slept, turning paler and paler with each grunt of pain. In desperation, he tried to point out to her that running herself into the ground would hardly do the injured any good. He did not want to lose her too. 

She appeared to consider this. "I don't remember the end of the battle. How Bard managed to rally the troops or Thranduil and Dain drove a wedge through the Orc forces. How without Bolg the attack shattered. I was of no use to anyone then. Now, though, I can help. My knowledge is not as great as yours, Godfather, but I know my way around a broken bone. I will help to heal those who fought for me when I couldn't fight for myself, no matter what it might cost me. It is what they did for me." 

And after that, he found he really couldn't argue with her. 

 

 

"How is he?" Five days-or was it ten?- after the battle ended, Fili and Kili were both sitting up in bed, the ghosts of their usual grins slowly gaining more spirit. 

Isabella glanced up from her contemplation of her toes. She ached in places she had no name for. Her clothes, hair, and face were covered with every kind of bodily fluid imaginable, but she hadn't added any more today. At least she didn't think she had.

In a blur of surgeries, screams, and corpses, Isabella had lost track of the time. She and Oin had thrown themselves into the midsts of the Elvish and Laketown healers to save as many as they could. Utter chaos had erupted in the wake of the battle as the men and women of the makeshift hospital sprinted from one cot to the next, trying to stem the blood and the screams. There had been so many in need of immediate surgery that the ward had expanded from beneath the tents to decorate the sandy shores of the Lonely Isle. 

Though the only sounds she could hear were the rhythmic breathing of the finally resting patients and the constant ebb of the sea, the pleas of the injured soldiers still rang in her ears. There had been so many they couldn't save. 

And each day that passed, she became terrified that Thorin would soon count among their number. His condition had stabilized yesterday, but he was not improving. Skin the texture of dry paper, each breath rasped in his lungs and his stomach was a mess of bandages and poultice. 

Still, with Fili's heart in his eyes, there was little she could say besides, "he's not any worse. His fever should break soon." She hoped. 

"What about," he lowered his voice, limping closer to where Isabella sat, and flicked a glance at his brother, "Tauriel? Have you any word? Bard's family?" 

It hurt to think, she was so exhausted. There had been a familiar Elf who stopped her today with news. What was it he had said? "Yes, actually. I'm sorry, I should have mentioned it sooner. Kili, Tauriel is resting comfortably in Mirkwood. Prince Legolas says she will be allowed to have her bow and arrow again tomorrow as long as she promises not to hurt any of the nurses when they come with her medicine. Bard and his family are whole and hale and apparently unused to such attention. He is being hailed as their new king." 

Kili closed his eyes. His voice ragged, he said, "thank you, Bella." 

"Of course. I meant to tell you earlier, but...." Something had come up, she just couldn't remember quite what. 

"Nonsense. It's a miracle you remembered at all given how much you've been doing." Kili waved a hand. "I'll go see her tomorrow." 

Isabella narrowed her eyes at him. 

"That is," he amended quickly, "if you give me leave to get out of bed." 

"Better," she harrumphed. 

"You should get some rest, Bella," Fili said quietly a moment later. 

A sigh tickled her throat. That was all people seemed capable of telling her these days. She knew they had a point, but Isabella had this irrational idea that as long as she kept watch over Thorin, he couldn't possibly pass on. Somehow she had to be his tether; she couldn't lose him. 

"I will." She summoned a smile for the boys. "I probably can't leave this chair, but I'll take a short nap." 

Fili raised his eyebrows before grabbing a chair and pulling it up next to her. He propped his mending leg on the edge of Thorin's cot. "I'll watch over him for you. If he wakes, you'll be the first to know." 

The smile took no effort at all now. "Thank you." 

 

"Well," Isabella told Thorin's sleeping form, "Erebor is nearly cleaned of Smaug's filth. Only the back chambers to go. I'm half convinced that mountain never ends. And Gandalf was correct, you are a damned sight easier to manage than your cousin." 

They were the only ones in the healing tent now. The other soldiers had either recuperated enough to leave on their own power, or been loaded onto ships to take them home for the last time. It had been a week since the Orcs had been defeated, and the tide still washed up more blood and bodies. 

She had been forced to leave Thorin's side for long stretches during the days to help the Company organize Erebor's reorganization and relations with the Elves and Laketown. Construction was due to start on rebuilding Dale soon and the details that had to be worked out were never ending. If she and Bard weren't able to ignore the pirates and hash out compromises, they'd all be here until the ending of the world. 

"He refuses to listen to reason!" She thumped the edge of his cot with her book for emphasis. "It's all Durin said this and Durin decreed that! I'm all for tradition, but glory wept! The times are changing and he refuses to see that." 

Closing her eyes, Isabella strove for calm. If she didn't, she was liable to march back into the mountain and thump some sense into that bloody pirate. 

"Have you tried citing article three of the pirate code to him?" Thorin asked. 

Great. She was so upset she was imagining things now. "I didn't know pirates had a code." 

"More of a guideline really, but Dain will listen to it. Durin is said to have penned it." 

"I'll mention it, then. Thank you." She let go of the fantasy with a sigh of regret and opened her eyes. "Now, where were we? Chapter three, I th- Thorin!" 

Deep oceans in a haggard face smiled at her surprise. His grip was weak as he squeezed her fingers. "That is my name last time I checked." 

Gods, his voice was so thin, but he was awake! Isabella couldn't think of a thing to say. Tears trembled on her eyelids, spilling over to cascade down her face. 

"Don't cry, Bella. Please." 

Sniffling, she wiped at her face and bent down to kiss him. "Thank the gods. I thought I'd never hear your voice again." 

He smiled, shifted in the bed, and let out a hiss of pain. "Don't thank them quite yet." 

"No. No more of this farewell nonsense. You're going to live, Thorin, and rule Erebor with all the strength and wisdom I know you possess," she said. How dare he think of anything else?

"Not a kingdom of corpses?" he asked, face set in a grimace as he tried to sit up. 

Isabella lept to her feet, rearing back as though slapped.

"Fuck, Bella, that's not what I meant. I didn't...You saved us all with what you did. I forgave you the moment the curse lifted." 

But he hadn't forgotten. After what they had both done, there really was no going back, was there? 

"I...I...Fili and Kili and the others will be wanting to know you're awake. I'll just go get them." And with too much pain for her shattered heart to hold, Isabella fled the tent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we know! I just couldn't kill them off. My heart bleeds too much reading the books and I love these characters so much. 
> 
> And look! We're nearing the end (ahhhH!) and almost at 100k. I'm going to do it! 
> 
> Also, yes, I did reference Pirates of the Caribbean, but it just fit so well!


	28. Chapter Twenty-Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin attempts to find Bella, but will he find her in time?

They said it was by the grace of Mahal that Thorin survived. Perhaps that was true, but it was but one small part of the whole. The biggest reason he still drew breath was because of one very stubborn woman. 

A woman who had become remarkably good at avoiding him. 

Everyone else, though, Thorin found. And they all seemed remarkably grumpy with him. 

"What are you doing out of bed?!" Balin demanded, popping his head out of the library. "You have to rest. You're two days out of your deathbed and the ceremony is tonight." 

"Don't remind me," Thorin snapped. It was utterly ridiculous, but all the pirate lords agreed; Thorin needed to be crowned to solidify the victory. "Have you seen Bella?" 

"Preparations are nearly done," Balin said, completely ignoring him. "All you need to do is rest." 

Giving him up a lost cause, Thorin continued down the hallway only to run straight into Dwalin. 

Arms crossed and foot tapping, he was doing a damned good job of channeling Dis. "Get your scrawny ass back in bed. I did not carry your sodding self all the way down the hill for you to push yourself too hard." 

Then came Oin, Bombur, and Gandalf, all of whom seemed keen on lecturing him and ignoring his questions about Bella. 

Hands clenched both to keep himself upright and to keep from punching the next person who asked him what he was doing out of bed, Thorin made his way to the kitchens and sat- okay, collapsed- at a table away from the bustle of the feast preparations. Where on earth could Bella be? She hadn't been in the library, the gardens, or the conference rooms. He had even checked the treasure room in case she was there choosing her one fourteenth of the treasure, even though he knew she would never want the gold. 

The sight of the glittering gems and mountains of ore did little to stir his heart except shorten his breath with regret. So much death for a pile of cold rocks. 

They had contained most of the treasure to its original vaults in the subterranean levels of the mountain. The amount of wealth was unimaginable even after Thorin had hoisted a significant portion onto Bard's shoulders for the rebuilding of Dale and Laketown. He had even given Thranduil his coveted white diamonds for the sake of his nephew. Thorin had been a little worried about Kili venturing back into Mirkwood without first appeasing the king. If he ended up in a cell again, Bella wouldn't be there to spring him. 

And speaking of Bella, he looked in the stables, the orangery, the solar. She was nowhere to be found, and this cat and mouse game was getting old. 

Though, to be honest, Thorin had no idea what he would say to her. She had been willing to sacrifice everything for him and he had only hurt her. 

"Uncle!" Kili barreled into the kitchens. Tauriel came behind him at a more measured pace, thought the excitement burning in her face was as intense as his. "I've been looking all over for you. I know this isn't the best time with the coronation coming up, but I can't wait any longer." 

Frowning, Thorin beckoned him to continue. 

"I want your blessing, we want your blessing, to marry." Kili was as serious as Thorin had ever seen him. 

It took a moment to remember to click his jaw closed. It wasn't that Thorin was against it, he just honestly hadn't seen this coming. "Why me? Your mother will be here soon." 

"I'll ask her too, but you've always been like a father to me. I want your blessing as well." 

"You have it." Thorin smiled. "But we wait for Dis for the ceremony." 

"Brilliant!" Tauriel gave Thorin a careful hug. "I am honored to become a part of your family." 

"We're honored to have you." At least some sort of happiness had come of this. He would be interested to see how marriage would suit his nephew, despite how close their relations with Elves would now have to be. "Come. There are engagement gifts to consider. Have you seen Bella?" 

Once again, the answer was no. 

"COUSIN!" Dain bellow shattered the peace of the jeweler's shop. 

"Not now, Dain," Thorin gritted out as he stopped to lean against a workbench. Maybe everyone had a point. Walking this much on a barely healed stomach was probably not a good idea. 

"You don't get to tell me to bugger off after I saved your ass." Dain wandered through the rooms as though taking stock of new possessions. Always a subtle one, his cousin. 

"Do I not?" Thorin asked quietly. 

Dain met his gaze and for a moment Thorin thought they were about to go a round, thumping and swearing on the floor like they had as children. Then his mercurial blue eyes shifted and Dain grinned. "Always the stubborn one, aren't ye?" 

"Says the man who once refused to leave his battle goat behind even after the damned thing had broken three legs and so carried it across the battlefield over his shoulder. Yes, you cousin are the soul of compromise." 

Dain threw back his head with a belly laugh. "My, what a temper you are in these days, cousin. Whatever could be the cause for such cantankerous words?" 

Sensing where this was going, Thorin pushed himself upright and strode to the door as fast as his injured body would take him. 

"I hear you and a very pretty miss have been living in sin. Are you going to tie the knot of the noose around your neck now that you have Erebor? Perhaps I can carry her veil down the aisle. No? I see, you are going to flaunt tradition and carry on, carousing into the sunset with your hair flying in the wind. I swoon at the romance." He heaved a dramatic sigh. 

Thorin tossed him a hand sign that would have made his mother faint. 

Dain guffawed. "Now who's the one to bugger off? Good luck to you, cousin. You're going to need it. She's a fiery one." 

Swearing he would put Dain on the first boat west after his coronation, Thorin scampered. He still had half a mountain to cover to find Bella, and he'd have to do it himself since no one seemed to know where she was. 

Thorin did find her, later that evening, but it was too late. 

 

 

"It will be quite the celebration," Balin said as he lead Isabella to Erebor's front gates. 

Though she had spent the past few days exploring the mountain, Isabella had a feeling she could live here her whole life and never discover all its secrets. It was a place she could live quite happily if they expanded the garden; her curiosity would always have something to indulge it. 

"Songs and tales and toasts to our new king. You can finally hear the whole story of Durin the Deathless. We will salute our dead in the best way we know how," he continued.

Isabella smiled, trying not to drag her feet as the enormous doors, so quickly repaired into monolithic gates, came into view. "No, thank you. I know that is how you must celebrate, but that is not my way. We have gained and lost so much and I must come to terms with it on my own." 

Balin placed a hand on her shoulder. "Thorin wants you to stay, Bella. We all do." 

She wanted to as well. "All things pass, Balin, shadows as well as cheer. I have been away from my home long enough. Besides, there are things that I can never say. What Thorin is to me..." Breaking off before she started crying again, because sweet acorns above that was all she seemed to do these days, she shook her head. "There are somethings that deserve an ending. Become sweeter with closure. I have to go." 

He seemed to understand, pulling her into a grandfatherly hug with a kiss on her forehead. "You will write to me, won't you? I want to hear all about the Shire." 

"Every day if you'll let me." She smiled. "Will you say goodbye to the others for me? I can't bear the thought of-" 

"Say goodbye yourself." He stepped aside and pointed to the crowd assembled at the doors. 

And here it was. It was time. 

Each and every one of them hugged her, Kili making her promise-swear on her parents' graves- that she would come to the wedding. And she promised Tauriel that she would send all the best fashion catalogues on to help her pick a suitable gown. She even extracted a promise in turn from Fili that he wouldn't wait too long before heading into Laketown to say hello to a very particular girl. 

As she said farewell to the company, she became aware of another gaze upon her. Looking up as she brushed back her hair, she saw Thorin standing on a bridge above them. The pain warring with calm in his eyes told her this was the right choice. He may have forgiven her, but he would never forget. The events of the past weeks would always come between them. 

Isabella forced a smile, the gesture becoming more genuine the longer she gazed at him. So what if she were crying? She would always hold him in her heart, have the memories of waking up in his arms. 

"What will we do without you?" Bofur asked, crushing her in a hug and wrenching her attention away. 

"You'll manage. If I stayed, you'd eventually throw me into the ocean for asking too many questions or making up too many songs." She kissed his cheek. 

"Mayhaps, but I'll still sing your bath song every now and again." Dwalin surprised her with a kiss on her forehead. 

She gasped out a laugh. "I hope so." 

After she had embraced each of them, she kissed Fili and Kili again, and shouldered her bag. "If any of you happen to be in the Shire....tea is at four." Gods, why was this so hard? "Don't bother to knock." 

Everyone laughed and she forced her feet into motion. Pain flared brighter and brighter with every step, but Isabella knew she was doing the right thing. While the gaping would in her soul might hurt, stabbing knives into her heart, she knew that time would bring a balm. She had wonderful memories, connections she never had before. A family, no matter the distance that separated them. 

She had let herself become vulnerable, and found....and found her strength. 

 

 

Gandalf kept her company most of the ride back to the Shire, thankfully with only light conversation. He offered her comfort, but never suffocated her. Along the way they made a few stops: a hastily reassembled Laketown to watch Bard be crowned the new king of Dale and promise that Isabella would introduce the girls into society when they felt the need for dances, Beorn's for long tales and stories and cryptic advice. 

They stayed for a while in Rivendell, where somehow the ancient walkways beneath her feet eased her worries for a few days. Lord Elrond extended a perpetual invitation to her, and while she enjoyed losing herself in the tales of old, Isabella knew it was time to go home. 

"I'm surprised at you, child mine," Gandalf said as they docked in the Shire. He would return with the boat-ship!- to Rivendell where serious talks with the Five were about to commence. Apparently even after their defeat at Erebor, Gandalf was worried that the Orcs of Mordor would soon become a larger threat. Whispers spoke of a growing shadow in the east. And no matter how she pried or wheedled, he would tell her nothing of what he had done when his travels had taken him from the Company. 

Frustrating, lovable old man. 

"Why Godfather?" The relief she normally felt at returning to the Shire flowed over her and Isabella smiled for the first time in weeks. 

"You have changed and you don't seem to mind." 

She arched an eyebrow. "Maybe that's a self-fulling prophecy." 

"Aye. That may be. I will be by Bag End soon. Take care of what you found in the Goblin caves, Isabella. Magic is not something to be taken lightly. Not even by one who has over come much," he said, suddenly stern. 

Her stomach flipped over but she refused to let her unease show in her face. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean." 

Blue eyes sparked at her. "I'm sure you do. It is a wide world, Isabella, and you are not of much consequence until you make the choice to become so. That is not something I would counsel you to do rashly." 

"I understand." She rose up on tiptoe to give him a peck on the cheek. "I plan on returning to a quiet life. At least for a little while." 

He harrumphed. "See that you do." 

Waving from shore, Isabella hoisted her bags and the small trunk of treasure they had rescued from the Trolls, and turned her feet away from the ocean. 

"The Road goes ever on and on,  
Down from the door where it began.  
Now far ahead the Road has gone,  
And I must follow, if I can,  
Pursuing it with eager feet,  
Until it joins some larger way  
Where many paths and errands meet.  
And whither then? I cannot say." 

For the moment though, her path led toward home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AH! Very near the end now. I have it all written so I'll be posting the last two or three chapters for the rest of the week.  
> I can't believe we're almost done!  
> So many Kili feels! Even if you aren't a Tauriel fan, I hope you can appreciate his happy ending. 
> 
> Also, many thanks to [Sol3Bug](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Sol3Bug/pseuds/Sol3Bug) for requesting a bit of Dain with as much of Billy Connolly flavor as I could manage. I hope this fulfills your wish.  
> And to the very lovely [GilornethTheGold](http://archiveofourown.org/users/GilornethTheGold/pseuds/GilornethTheGold), a speedy recovery from the flu! If Bella were at your bedside, you'd have a speedy recovery indeed.


	29. Chapter Twenty-Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An auction appears to be occurring at Bag End

"Lobelia Sackville-Baggins! Drop those spoons or I will throw you out on your ear!" Isabella shrieked, pointing a finger threateningly at her cousin. 

Everyone in the Bag End manor home jumped. It seemed an auction was in progress- an auction of everything Isabella owned. On the way in, pushing her way through the crowd of Hobbits scouting out the merchandise, she had given the head auctioneer a piece of her mind and he had reluctantly agreed to oversee the returning of things to their rightful places. 

Incidentally, she would end up having to buy back most of her things, but she didn't give a damn at the moment about her neighbors' ruffled feelings. What bothered her was the fact that her conniving cousins' hands were all over the silverware. 

Lobelia and Otho dropped the silver in pure shock. Instead of welcoming her home, they started an uproar throughout the manor, accusing her of being an impostor, even a ghost. It took a lot of elbowing for Isabella to reach the offending party. 

"We thought you were dead!" Otho cried when she reached him. And judging from his tone, realizing that she was whole and hale was not a welcome surprise. 

"I was only gone for a year. In fact, in order for you to arrive from England to be here now, you must have left only a month after me. A month's absence is hardly cause for theft, dear hearts," she snapped, stuffing the cutlery back into the china cabinet. Her stomach rolled at the sight of the mess and the thought of people invading her privacy. 

"How do we know you are who you say you are?" Lobelia asked on a sneer, raising a muttering from the watching crowd. 

Isabella glared, a petty part of her glad when Lobelia looked away. "You know me." 

"Still, some proof wouldn't go amiss," the persnickety and stuffy Thain, mayor of the Shire, said. 

"Fine. Fine!" She ripped open her pack, dug to the bottom and pulled out the contract she had signed so long ago when she officially joined the crew. "There. That's my signature at the bottom." 

The parchment was passed around, and most seemed to accept this as proof. They thumped her on the back, bowing, as they welcomed her home. Her cousins, however, didn't want to give up so easily. 

"Who is this, this Thorin Oakenshield, to whom you signed your allegiance?" 

Her mouth opened, but Isabella didn't know what to say. "He is..." She glanced away. 

Everyone was surprised to see the unflappable Lady Baggins smiling despite the tears crowding her eyes. 

How could she describe Thorin? He was more than mere words could ever capture. He was...hope and fear and so much heart. If she were the earth, he was the universe. It was an impossible task for simple sounds and her tongue to wrap around all that he was. 

Centering herself, Isabella cleared her throat, but the queasiness in her stomach from the docks didn't go away. Surely she should be feeling better by now. She had been on dry land for several hours. "Now, if you would all kindly depart, I need to get my affairs back in order." 

Lobelia tried to declare that she would stay with Isabella in Bag End, but Hamfast Gamgee, bless his heart, told her the guest rooms were in a right state and they must surely prefer rooms in town. 

Finally, blissfully, Isabella was alone. 

Deciding she would hire help later to clean up the mess, she headed up to her room, the familiar path feeling odd beneath her feet, and set her frayed pack on her well-kept, though dusty, silk sheets. 

Maybe coming back was a mistake. She wasn't the same person she had been before. The thought of going to a ball or dinner party made her sick to her stomach. Well, more queasy than she already was, at the very least. Everyone would have questions, want to know what her plans were. Eligible bachelors would ask for her hand, some more demanding than others- especially after news of her trunk of treasure escaped- and what would she tell them? That she would never marry? That wasn't an option in today's society. 

Well, so what? Isabella tugged her boots off with barely controlled anger. So what if people thought she was odd? It was time to live life as she wanted. No more hiding her oddities. 

By golly, she'd...she'd sing bath songs at the top of her lungs and plant oak trees in the middle of her property and adopt children orphaned from the war. Bella the thief had served her purpose, and so had Lady Baggins. From now on, she would be simply Isabella. 

Taking a deep breath, she gave voice to the poem that had been forming in her mind for months. 

"In the western lands beneath the Sun  
The flowers may rise in Spring,  
The trees may bud, the waters run,  
The merry finches sing.  
Or there maybe 'tis cloudless night,  
And swaying branches bear  
The Elven-stars as jewels white  
Amid their branching hair. 

Though here at journey's end I lie  
In darkness buried deep,  
Beyond all towards strong and high,  
Beyond all mountains steep,  
Above all shadows rides the Sun  
And Stars for ever dwell:  
I will not say the Day is done,  
Nor bid the Stars farewell." 

 

 

Dis looked up. A knock had sounded on her front door. 

Erebor had been retaken, the travelers passing through the Blue Mountains seemed sure of that, but that had been her only news. Surely that was just because her sons and brother would have too much to do to come back here. 

If they were still alive. The travelers said there had been a battle with the Orcs. 

Flinging the door open, hoping against hope the person came with a message from her sons, Dis was brought up short when she found a young woman on her doorstep. She was pretty, maybe ten years younger than Dis, with wild curls and a cutting edge sense of fashion. 

What froze her tongue, however, was the look in the woman's eyes. There was a wisdom there gained only through suffering. 

"Hello. I am so sorry to barge in on you like this, but I wanted to bring you word of your family. I traveled with Fili and Kili and Thorin. I was there when they reclaimed Erebor." She pulled three pieces of parchment from a pocket in her traveling cloak. "They're alive, Lady Dis. Don't worry. They send their love." 

Abandoning propriety and her own rules about private space, Dis threw her arms around the young woman. Thankfully, the lady took this well, patting Dis on the back, making soothing sounds until she let go, and then the woman set about making tea. 

"Tell me everything." Dis demanded when the woman sat down and pushed a mug toward her. 

The woman smiled. She must be an aristocrat: her clothes and bearing gave her away, but there was something utterly warm and practical about her. "I would be delighted, but perhaps you should read the letters first." 

Half afraid the girl would disappear if she didn't keep one eye on her, Dis read the writing as quickly as she could- Fili's neat lines, Kili's scrawl, Thorin's shorthand. When she finished, the woman was still there, still sipping tea. "You must be Bella." 

The mug tipped in her direction. "So I must. I've heard a lot about you, my lady. Mostly that you and I should never meet for the safety of the world." 

Dis laughed. "I have a feeling we're going to get along smashingly, Bella." 

Sadness tinged Bella's elegant features. "I think we would as well. But you should start packing. You're much missed at Erebor." 

"Not until I hear the whole story." She drank her tea, wishing for something stronger. Her family was alive. Safe. And so far away. "Please, Bella." 

"Of course. I can't imagine how this past year has been for you. Let me start at the beginning. Well, it was the beginning where I came into it. Before that, I can't speak to, but I know bits and pieces from what Thorin mentioned." 

The tale took several hours to complete. Bella couldn't finish it except in pieces, having to break off to wipe at her tears or go quiet with some horrible memory.

Dis managed to gather what she couldn't say though. "You're in love with my brother." 

"Yes." She met Dis's eyes squarely, the truth written all over her face. "I left not long after that and made it home a week ago before it occurred to me that word might not have reached you yet." 

Dis drank in silence for a moment, staggered by this woman. "Thank you, Bella. And you're right, I do want to head off to Erebor as soon as I can. But there must be something I can do for you in return for keeping my family safe." 

Bella leaned forward and clasped Dis's hands between her own. "Only what you will already do. Watch over them for me." 

"What would they do without us?" She smiled. 

Bella laughed. She had a beautiful, full laugh. "I hope we never have to find out. The world would never forgive us." 

 

 

There would be nights when Isabella fell asleep all at once and then woke up screaming. Nights when she couldn't sleep in the confines of the house or on her bed. Too confining, too soft. Too unreal. 

There would be days when the feel of the ocean breeze made her sob. When the smell of roasting meat sent fear racing down her spine and bile clogging her throat. Days when the press of grief and guilt kept her pinned to the bed, gaze listless and clouded with tears. 

Days were harder than the nights because she could tell herself things would change as soon as the sun rose. But when light flooded Bag End and she was expected at a tea party, Isabella felt the true weight of her adventure. She wasn't the same, she wasn't whole. 

On those days, she simply concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other and finding joy in the small things: the feel of the sun on her skin, the smell of a favorite book, the taste of mangoes fresh from her garden. Those days she ached though she couldn't precisely say why, at least not at first. It wasn't just the bittersweet realization she would never see the world the same way again. 

No, this was more- as if she were missing an arm or a leg. As if she were no longer quite steady on her own. Isabella knew she could face the world by herself, but she no longer wanted to. She wanted to wake up next to Thorin, sob into his chest when the memories became too much to bear, fall asleep listening to his deep voice remember the best of times and their dreams for the future. 

Each day without him hurt, gods did it hurt, but Isabella was never one to avoid reality. All she could do was hold each memory of him close to appease the ache for just a little while as she tried to remember how to live without him. How to live in such a manner to do justice to the love that still burned bright within her without sacrificing herself along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've arrived back at Bag End!  
> I just had to stick Dis in here because I always wished she'd made the books. I didn't do too much with her here, but she seems like such a rich character! 
> 
> Yes, I do realize that this poem was not one of Bilbo's compositions, but I like it and it feels appropriate, so I added it in. 
> 
> And never fear, there is an epilogue. In two parts actually. I'll upload those on Halloween. 
> 
> Gah! I can't believe this is almost over. Much love for all you, dear readers! I wouldn't be here without you.


	30. Chapter Thirty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue of the First Part

Part One: One month later

Sweet Acorns! Morning sickness was awful. Wiping her mouth for the fourth time since dawn, she finally felt the nausea ebb. Isabella stood carefully, but her stomach was blessedly empty. 

Her maid, Hattie, answered the ring of the bell and had Isabella dressed in a thrice, a frown coloring her youthful features. "Are you sure you don't want to send for your godfather, my lady? Lord Gandalf knows many remedies." 

Yes, but there was only one cure for this sickness and she still had another eight months to go. "I'm sure, thank you. He'll be by in his own time. Will you check and make sure we have scones on hand? Cook will know which ones. Thank you, dear." Isabella made it to the back garden before her legs gave out. She hadn't been sleeping, plagued by nausea and fear, and it was catching up to her. 

It wasn't just the fear of single motherhood. She was as excited to have a child as she was terrified, but...she still had yet to send a message to Thorin. His response was what really frightened her. 

Not that he would abandon her and the child. The opposite actually was what terrified her. He would feel honor bound to marry her and raise the child together. She would never wish to deprive the baby of a father, but being so close to Thorin and knowing he stayed only out of duty...

What would happen when he found someone else to love? How could she condemn herself to watching him grow more and more distant until one day he hated her for tying him down to a life he didn't want? 

Isabella knew she was strong, she could survive a lot, but being hated by the man she loved so completely....she would shatter and never again find all the pieces. 

Shaking herself, she pulled her thoughts back to the present. She would write Thorin this afternoon. Fears aside, he needed to know. She would just have to be firm that she could raise the child on her own, though he would always be welcome to visit. 

Resolved, she pulled on her gardening gloves, found a shady spot, and set to work. The acorn Beorn had given her had germinated and it was time to plant. She had finally decided on a spot; the tree would grow behind her parents' graves, between the house and the sea. She thought they would appreciate it. Mother had always talked of traveling north. 

"I wouldn't have thought it would be ready to plant so soon." A deep, male voice spoke from behind her. 

A scream tore from her throat as she threw her handfuls of dirt in every direction, the acorn flying across the garden. 

"Mahal, Bella. I wasn't thinking. You're always so engrossed in whatever it is you're doing." The man bent down and saved the acorn from rolling off the cliff. 

Her brain refused to acknowledge what her eyes saw. It couldn't be. It just couldn't. She hadn't sent him a letter yet about the baby. Why would he come so far when he had just been crowned? 

"Oh, stars above. Something's happened! Are Fili and Kili alright? Did the Orcs come back? Dwalin and Bofur and the rest?" She scrambled to her feet. 

"No, nothing like that. Everything is fine." Thorin placed the seed in her hands. She flinched at the feeling of his warm flesh against hers. He was really here. Thorin. 

At Bag End. 

Here. 

 

 

Bella looked...scared. As if Thorin were about to hit her or throw her into the ocean. Cursing himself in every language he knew, Thorin kept his shoulders loose and the tension from his face. 

Dark circles plagued her eyes and her face was worryingly pale. She hadn't been sleeping. What was bothering her? Had some of the Orcs followed her home? Bella just stared at him, as though words had deserted her. 

What would he do if she asked never to see him again? These weeks without her had been agony. How would he endure a lifetime like this? 

He would find a way, he decided. Bella had the right to refuse him, and goodness knew she had reasons, and he would just have to cope. He would turn around and walk away and no one would ever know how much it cost him. 

"What are you doing here? I haven't sent the message yet. How did you know? I've barely even comprehended it." 

He blinked. "What? Bella, what are you talking about? How do I know what?" 

The green in her gaze was especially pronounced today. The gown she wore was one he had given her in Erebor. He wondered if that meant anything. Her brows crashed together. "Wait, if you don't know, why are you here?" 

Ah, that was his cue. All of the speeches he had prepared on the long days at sea flew from his head. None of them seemed powerful enough now that he was actually standing in front of her. 

Being this close to her and unable to touch her, it was killing him. This agony was ten time, a hundred times worse than gold sickness. "I...I came to say I'm sorry." 

When he said nothing more, her expression grew more troubled. "Are you sure nothing is wrong? You already apologized, Thorin. It's not worth coming all the way here to tell me that again." 

"It is. I wronged you, Bella. So many times. You were my anchor and I cut you loose out of spite and pettiness. I know the stories and songs and tales say that I was the one to retake Erebor, the proud king finally back on his throne, ha! They're wrong. Catastrophically wrong. You're the one who saved my ancestors from forever roaming the lands in search of justice. You're the one who kept me from sliding completely into madness." Thorin gazed up at the clouds, trying to think of a way to make her understand. "Do you know why I was able to break from from the treasure's curse?"

"No." Her voice was faint, a sigh on the wind. 

"Whenever I looked at the treasure, the swirling colors in the diamonds, the brightness of the gold, I kept thinking that it wasn't perfect. It wasn't the most beautiful thing I had ever beheld. I had already found a treasure that contained the beauty of the world with gem clarity. I already had a glimpse of paradise. More than a glimpse. I held it in my hands. Every time I look at you, Bella, I see the future in your eyes, I see hope and strength and so much joy that I know nothing else can ever compare." Thorin looked back down at her, eyes tracing the tears that tore at his heart. "You are the treasure I never knew I needed. The piece of me I didn't know what was missing." 

Bella said nothing. More and more tears fell. 

"I know I have no right to ask this, but please, give me one more chance. I will burn the world if it makes you smile, Bella. We don't have to go back to Erebor. I know how much you love the Shire. Dain can rule the pirates until Fili is ready. And if you never want to see me again, I understand. I'll leave as soon as you say no." Thorin couldn't bear her tears anymore. Reaching out, giving her plenty of time to move away, he placed his hand on her cheek, wiping away the tears that splashed down. Gods, his memory hadn't done her skin justice. How the hell did she get so soft? 

"Thorin...you can't give up Erebor for me. Not after everything you went through." 

"I can. I mean it, Bella. Nothing is more important to me than your happiness." 

"Don't be dense. I did not go through the hell that was Goblin Town for you to throw the kingdom away willy-nilly." 

She finally sounded like herself. Thorin laughed. "Alright. We can split our time between the two. It'll give Fili a chance to adjust to herding the cats." 

Bella hesitated. "Thorin, there is something you should know. I don't want to cage you, and if this makes you change your mind, I completely understand. I was shocked as well, and you can be as involved as you want. We'll have to figure it out." 

"What is left to figure out? Bella, I love you. Heart and soul." 

"I love you, too. So much it frightens me." Those magical eyes met his, swirls of gold and silver and green. "But, we have another person to think of now." 

"Who?" What was she on about? 

Bella took his right hand and pressed it gently against her stomach. "I was just about to send you a message. Today, actually. I had finally found my courage, but Thorin-" 

Everything in him stopped. How as the world still turning. It was impossible! It was amazing! "A baby!" 

Finally, Bella smiled through her tears. "Yes!" 

Thorin had no idea what he had done in previous life to be given two such great gifts, but he was never, ever, going to take them for granted again. He picked Bella up and spun her around and around, laughing his joy to the sky. 

When he set her down, he kept her close, trying to reassure himself this wasn't a dream. Bella was here. She was his as completely as he was hers. "You are going to be a great mother." 

"No, I'm not. I'm going to be terrible." She laughed into his chest. "I'll be teaching our child to sneak out and subvert your orders. You'll have to discipline us both." 

Sure his face was going to split under the force of his smile, Thorin buried his face in her hair. She smelled exactly as he remembered: rose, honey, and something uniquely, devastatingly Bella. "I hope it's a girl. Or twins." 

Bella groaned. "Twins! Don't wish that upon us. I don't even know how to change a nappie." 

"You'll learn. Dis can teach you. Speaking of Dis, she says hello and that she is keeping the world from collapsing." He hugged her tighter as she giggled. One day, she'd have to tell him what that meant. 

The first thing Dis had done upon arriving at the Lonely Isle was to smack him upside the head and tell him to get his ass to the Shire. She had conveniently missed the signs of his impending trip and luggage. 

"Mahal, Bella, I am so sorry I let you leave, but it will never happen again." 

She tilted her face up, nearly blinding him with her smile. "I love you, Thorin. Somehow we'll figure this out." 

"Together," he agreed. Bending down slightly, Thorin whispered his love against her lips before he claimed her mouth. The small moan of welcome filled the empty spaces in his soul, and, as Bella kissed him back, Thorin knew. 

He was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!  
> And we've arrived at the end. I'm posting the second part of the epilogue right after this, so today is the last update!  
> That is utterly impossible to believe. 
> 
> Yes, Thorin and Bella do have a happily ever after because they deserve it. After all they've been through, this just seemed fitting.  
> And despite what Bella thinks, they are wonderful parents.


	31. Chapter Thirty-One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue the Second Part

Epilogue Part Two

Freya Baggins Durinson grew up surrounded with love. She never knew want, though her parents made certain she could take care of herself and survive in any situation. 

Part of the year she wandered the lush greenery of the Shire, learning how to dance from her father while her mother taught her how to navigate the prickly waters of high society with a sharp wit and a bright smile. The rest of the seasons she roamed the cavernous halls of Erebor where her parents, and then her cousin, ruled the pirates.   
She met all sorts of people as trade picked up and mining began again on the island. Her father made sure she knew the ins and outs of a ship and how to defend herself while her mother showed her how to pick a lock and leave no evidence. 

Her laugh was just like her mother's while her dark hair was from her father. Her cousins kept her in plenty of mischief and always had a place at their council for her. Gandalf was the proudest godfather, always bestowing sweets and cryptic pieces of wisdom on his visits with a smile and hug. She learned to appreciate the comforts of home as well as the thrill of adventure, but above all, she realized she would always have her family. No matter what. 

All the while she grew up knowing she was part of a bigger story, partially that of her parents, but also a story of her own that had yet to truly start. 

Freya of the Shire and of Erebor had a tale of her own to write.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we end. I cannot thank you enough for reading. I have had such fun with this story and fallen in love with the characters. I'm so glad we got to share this journey.   
> And to those who take the time to comment, your words mean the world to me. 
> 
> Bella and Thorin have earned their happily ever after and I hope you have enjoyed their story. Much love!


End file.
